IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Hiotographic 

Sdeoces 

Corporalion 


23  WiST  MAIN  STRUT 

WIBSTH.N.Y.  USM 

,716)«73-4S03 


d 


7.A 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/iCiVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Tschnical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notas  tachniquas  at  bibiiographiquas 


T 
t( 


Tha  instituta  has  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  bast 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturas  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  uniqua. 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagas  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  changa 
tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  bolow. 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couiaur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


D 


Couverture  endommagte 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pellicuMe 


r~n    Cover  title  missing/ 


D 
D 
D 
D 


D 


La  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gAocraphiques  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encra  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Sound  with  other  material/ 
Relit  avac  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serrie  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  ie  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certainas  pages  blanches  ajouttes 
!oni  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  la  texte, 
maii.  lorsque  cuia  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pa^s  6ti  fiimtes. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  la  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  iti  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographiqua,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite.  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithoda  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquAs  ci-dessous. 

□    Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

□    Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagias 

I      I    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 


u' 


D 
D 
D 
D 


Pages  restauries  et/ou  pelliculAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dicolorias,  tacheties  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d6tachdes 


Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Qualiti  inAgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  material  suppitmentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata.  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  M  filmies  i  nouveau  de  fa^on  A 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


T 

P 
o 
fi 


O 
b 
tl 

si 

01 

fii 
si 
oi 


T» 
sh 
Tl 
w 

M 
dii 

en 
be 

rig 
rei 
m< 


0 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppitmentairas: 


Wrinkled  pages  may  film  slightly  out  of  focus. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqui  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

7 

12X 


16X 


aox 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  hat  ba«n  reproduced  thanka 
to  the  generoaity  off: 

Morinat  Library 
UniMnity  of  Ottawa 


L'exemplaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
gAnAroaitA  da: 

Bibliothiqua  Moritsat 
Univanittf  d'Ottawa 


The  Imagea  appearing  here  are  the  beat  quality 
poaaible  conaidering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  orlginel  copy  and  In  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  apecificetiona. 


Lea  Imagea  auivantea  ont  6tA  raproduitea  avec  le 
piua  grand  aoin,  compta  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  netteti  de  i'exemplaire  f  limA,  et  en 
conformity  avec  lea  conditiona  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copiea  in  printed  paper  covera  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  end  ending  on 
the  iaat  page  with  a  printed  or  iliuatrated  Imprea- 
aion,  or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copiea  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
firat  page  with  a  printed  or  iliuatrated  imprea- 
aion,  and  ending  on  the  iaat  page  with  a  printed 
or  Iliuatrated  Impreaalon. 


Lea  exemplairea  orlginaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  eat  ImprimAe  aont  ffilmto  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  termlnant  aoit  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreaaion  ou  d'iiluatratlon.  aoit  par  le  aecond 
plat,  aelon  le  caa.  Toua  lea  autrea  exemplairea 
orlginaux  aont  fiimte  en  commenpant  par  la 
premlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreaaion  ou  d'iiluatratlon  et  en  termlnant  par 
la  dernldre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  iaat  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
ahaii  contain  the  aymbol  —^-(meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  aymbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  appiiaa. 


Un  dea  aymbolea  auivanta  apparaitra  aur  la 
derniire  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  aelon  le 
caa:  le  aymbole  — ►  aignif le  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
aymbole  V  aignifie  "FIN". 


Mapa,  platea,  charta,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
diffferent  reduction  ratioa.  Thoae  too  large  to  be 
entirely  Included  in  one  expoaure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  fframea  aa 
required.  The  following  diagrama  illuatrate  the 
method: 


Lea  cartea,  planchea,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
flimAa  A  dea  taux  de  rAduction  difff Arenta. 
Loraque  le  document  eat  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  aeul  clichA,  11  eat  filmA  A  partir 
de  i'angle  aupArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  drolte, 
et  de  haut  en  baa,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'Imagea  nAceaaaire.  Lea  diagrammea  auivanta 
illuatrent  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

-   ■^: 


'}.'.■■' 


:•?.!-  :'-::^y''-.'¥^:.   '  ' 


"S-..-^^'  .■"!.; 


1." 


t^.-; 


PEEE  JEAIST; 


—  OB,— 


THE   JESUIT  MISSIONARY 


A  Catholic  Story  Founded  on  Facts* 


BY  J.  McSHERRT. 


BALTIMORE: 

PUBLISHED  BY  JOHN  B.  PIET, 

5t. 


•                                                                                                                         1 

..    %                 ■ 

• 

23S1                   ^ 

.!lg33Pf 

(J 

PERE  JEAN. 


' 


CHAPTER  I. 

TTXH     KISSIONAiiY. 

N  the  year  of  our  Lord  1642  the 
yarious  missionary  stations  of  the 
Jesuits  throughout  Canada,  or 
New  France,  as  it  was  then 
called,  were  threatened  with  all  the  wild 
fury  of  the  savage  and  untamable  Iroquois. 
The  Five  Nations  had  proved  themselves 
the  most  unconquerable  in  their  hostility  to 
the  white  man,  to  the  religion  which  he 
taught,  and  the  civilization  which  he  en- 
deavored to  introduce.  In  vain  had  over- 
tures of  peace  been  made.  For  a  time, 
perhaps,  as  if  slumbering  from  indolence  or 
exhaustion,  they  ceased  to  ravage,  but  it  was 
only  to  break  forth  again  with  more  furious 


4  PEKB  JEAN. 

energy.  Their  bands  of  brayes  ''ranged  the 
illimiiiable  fprests"  With  no  power  to  control 
them,  and  no  rivals  whom  they  dreaded. 
They  traversed  the  St  Lawrence  and  Lakes 
Erie  and  Ontario,  and  they  struck  their 
enemy  upon  the  shores  of  Lake  Ohamplain. 

Every  missionary  on  his  way  to  his  distant 
station  w^  in  constant  danger  of  captivity 
and  death;  and  yet  never  were  those  stations 
left;  nnfiUed  for  want  of  brave  and  devoted 
men  to  dare  all  the  terrors  of  the  route,  and 
the  chances  of  enduring  the  torture  at  the 
villages  of  the  Mohawks.  The  path  to  the . 
Huron  missions  was,  perhaps,  more  com- 
pletely beset  than  any  other,  for  the  Iro^^uois 
had  succeeded  in  cutting  off,  or  at  least  in 
interrupting  the  communication  between 
Upper  and  Lower  Canada.  They  had  pos- 
session of  the  immediate  passes. 

In  Quebec,  in  that  year,  the  Feast  of  St. 
Ignatius,  the  founder  of  the  Society  of  Jesus, 
was  celebrated  with  no  ordinary  splendor. 
The  Fathers  on  that  joyous  occasion  offered 
up  with  full  hearts  the  glorious  crown  of 
souls  gathered  from  the  wilderness — ^gathered 
up  to  the  "greater  honor  of  God"  by  the 


PBRE  JEAN. 


sons  of  St  Ignatins  from  the  wandering 
children  of  the  forest  It  was  no  feeling  of 
earthly  glory  or  of  human  pride  that  swelled 
within  their  hearts  as  they  raised  them  up 
towards  heaven,  throbbing  high  with.exulta- 
tioiL  It  was  not  the  trinidph  which  lightens 
np  the  eye  of  the  worldly  conqueror  and 
cnrls  his  lip  that  made  their  step  more 
stately  and  their  pale  featiires  glow  with  an 
unwonted  flush.  They  were  spiritual  sol- 
diers ;  and  they  felt  in  their  hearts  the  glory 
of  their  calling,  and  the  martial  joy  of  vic- 
tory over  the  infernal  enemy  against  whom 
they  battled.  Many  a  full,  deep  .voice 
trembled  as  it  chanted  the  solemn  service; 
age  prayed  with  its  chastened  calmness; 
youth  vowed  to  make  itself  more  worthy  of 
the  glorious  founder  under  whose  banners 
tbey  were  enlisted  in  the  sfTice  of  God. 
Deep  was  the  feeling  that  porvad.d  all  hearts 
on  tJiat  memorable  festival. 

Among  the  priests  who  knelt  at  the  altar 
was  one  remarkable  for  his  worn  and  sun- 
burnt aspect  A  little  beyond  the  full  prime 
and  strength  of  manhood,  with  th^  nobility 
of  nature  stamped  upon  bis  brow,  he  was  a 


« 


PEBE  JEAN. 


moA  (Milealolted  to  itrike  ibe  attention  of  all 
'wh6  leokod  upon  him.  And  yet  there  was 
nothing  hard  «r  stem  in  those  grave,  culm 
f«atfiTeji;  th^  were  the  tme  picture  of  a 
good^  and  lienitle  heart ;  a  mind  tatored  in 
the 'paltient  and  e&darittg  sohoolof  Xa?ier 
and  Lofolnl  a  will  snbdoad  and  mortified. 
Father  Jean-  Laval  was  preparing  himself 
for  a  teiiewal^  his  ardnons  missioci  in  the 
WMtefn '  irildemesB.  A*  few  weeks  of  rv'st 
audi  fiek^eation  had  elapsed  since  he  bad 
ootiipleted  the  perilous  Toyoge  from  the  mis- 
4i)iGin9at  the  Falls  of  St  Mary,  between  Lakes 
Htiron  and  Superior,  and  now  be  was  assist- 
ing fox*  the  last  time  for  many  months,  it 
might  be  forever,  with  his  brethren  of 
Qoebee  at  the  holy  mystery  of  the  altar. 
And  yet  the  perilous  voyage  before  him  did 
Wt  appear  to  weigh  upon  his  mind.  Ab- 
stracted from  all  earthly  things,  his^^  soul 
seemed  only  the  more  closely  wrapt  in  the 
Gontetnplation  of  things^  heavenly.  Not  so 
witb  many  a  full  heart  in  that  thronged 
t^ple  of  Golf  but  the  dullness  of  their 
hea^  only  made  them  mingle  more  f«;r- 
v-ently  with  thoir  prayers  the  name  of  him 


FEBE  JEAN. 


on  whom  their  eyes  now  rested  with  such 
deep  lore  and  admiration.  He  was  going 
once  more  to  that  nation  of  pious  Indians  of 
whom  they  had  heard  such  joyful  tidings, 
who  clastered  to  the  true  altar  of  God  in 
thousands — ^a  Christian  people  in  the  wilder- 
ness. He  was  going  to  enlarge  the  empire 
of  the  Gospel,  to  plant  the  cross  in  new 
regions,  to  face  new  dangers,  it  might  be  to 
win  a  martyr's  crown.  It  was  a  noble  spec- 
tacle ta  them,  a  spootocle  of  Christian, 
chiTalric  devotion. 

At  length  the  last  chant  of  the  solemn 
Mass  had  ceased  to  swell  in  the  crowded 
aisle,  the  Benediction  had  been  given,  and 
silently  and  with  holy  recollection  the 
worshippers  departed  to  their  homes.  A 
small  group  of  Indians  alone  remained  before 
the  church.  In  a  few  moments  Father 
Laval,  in  his  cassock,  accompanied  by 
another  priest  of  his  order,  issued  from  the 
sacristy,  where  he  bad  disrobed,  and  ad- 
vanced towards  them. 

"My  dear  children,"  he  said,  "all  my 
arrangements  are  completed:  we  will  depart 
to-morrow.    Our  superior  so  wills  it" 


s 


PERE  JEAN. 


'*It  is  good,"  replied  one  of  their  number, 
who  appeared  to  bo  the  chief  of  the  party. 
^Ahosistari  hears  his  father,  the  black 
gown.*' 

"  At  day-break,  then,  sachem—" 

<*The  Hurons  will  be  ready.''  And  the 
party  separated,  Father  Laval  and  his  com- 
panion pursuing  their  walk  to  the  house  of 
their  order. 

<^Ah,  my  friend,  what  a  glorious  lot  is 
yours  ?  You  go  to  carry  the  cross  of  Christ 
to  the  heathen!  Oh  I  shall  we  not  envy 
yon  the  inestimable  happiness  of  being 
IHiought  worthy  of  such  high  honor  ? "  fer- 
vently exclaimed  the  companion  of  Father 
Laval. 

**No,  my  brother;  rather  pray  for  me  that 
my  unworthiness  may  not  render  fruitless 
the  prayers  of  the  good  and  pious  in  behalf 
of  the  benighted  Indian.  And  yet  it  is  a 
glorious  field  of  labor;  so  rich,  so  sweet,  so 
full  of  consolation ;  all  its  toils  and  dangers 
well  repaid  by  the  happy  privilege  of  win- 
ning souls  to  God.** 

<<And  happy  are  the  auspicesf,  Father 
Laval  I    On  this  festival  of  our  great  saint 


PEUE  JEAN. 


9 


yon  prepare  to  add  new  glory  to  his  name 
on  earth  by  bringing  new  children  to  the 
fold  of  Christ" 

"And  to-morrow,  Father  Anthony,  to-mor- 
row is  the  feast  of  *  the  chaim  of  St.  Peter,*  *' 

"Happy  coincidence,  my  brother/'  ex- 
claimed Father  Anthony.  "  You  go  on  that 
day  forth  to  bind  the  savage  in  the  chains  oi 
Peter,  to  win  wandering  children  to  the 
footstool  of  his  master." 

"Or  to  wear  my  chains  like  hiii!;  but, 
alas  I  I  am  not  deserving  of  sach  favor.  I 
shall  not  be  deemed  worthy  of  snfTering  for 
Him  who  died  forme.  Oh,  happiness!  oh, 
bliss!  I  dare  not  hope  for  thee  I " 

"Happy  apostle !  happy  in  the  chains  an  I 
suffering  yon  may  be  worthy  of  enduring. 
We,  thy  brethren,  seek  a  remembrance  in 
thy  prayers." 

"  Father  Anthony  Daniel,"  said  the  mis- 
sionary, slowly  and  thoughtfully,  as  they 
reached  the  end  of  their  walk,  "  it  shall  be 
thine  next" 


10 


FERE  JEAN. 


CHAPTER  IT. 


"A 


■Jfi-   »: 


THE      DEPAKTURE. 

N  the  following  morn,  the  first 
day  of  August,  a  gallant  fleet  of 
war  canoes  floated  gaily  from  be- 
lieath  the  guns  of  Fort  Quebec 
The  plumed  and  painted  Indians,  bowing 
their  strength  to  the  paddles,  sent  their  light 
and  graceful  barks  rapidly  into  the  mid- 
waters  of  the  broad  St.  Lawrence.  The  sun 
was  just  rising,  and  breaking  dim  and  red 
through  the  heavy  mists  that  overhung  the 
river;  yet  ere  the  last  canoe  swept  into  the 
line  the  veil  of  vapor  began  to  disappear 
before  its  powerful  rays.  Breaking  into 
light  clouds,  it  rose  and  floated  slowly  away 
towards  the  south,  while  streams  of  sunshine 
poured  brightly  through  each  opening, 
lighting  up  the  earth  with  a  rich  glow  and 
clothing  the  placid  bosom  of  the  river  with 
a  robe  of  gold.  As  the  mist  dispersed  the 
scene  around  became  distinct  in  its  full 
beauty,  and  the  infant  city  seemed  to  waken 


PERB   JEAN. 


11 


up  to  life  and  activity.  A  crowd  of  citizens 
stood  upon  the  quay  gazing  eagerly  and 
fondly  on  the  receding  fleet,  as  if  it  contained 
some  dear  object  upon  which,  perhaps,  they 
might  be  looking  for  the  last  time,  it***  *.  - 
In  the  rearmost  and  largest  canoe  were 
the  only  two  white  men  of  the  party — ^Father 
Jean  Laval  and  his  young  assistant,  the 
novice,  Bene  Bourdoise.  Guiding  the  canoe 
in  which  ihey  sat,  Ahasistari,  the  chief, 
seemed  to  guard  their  comfort  and  conve- 
nience as  the  first  object  of  his  care.  The 
vigorous  arms  of  the  Indian  rowers  impelled 
the  canoes  westward  up  the  St  Lawrence, 
and  when  the  foremost  was  about  disappear- 
ing to  the  view  of  the  party  on  the  quay. 
Father  Laval  rose  in  the  trembling  bark, 
and,  extending  his  hands  towards  heaven, 
invoked  again  that  blessing  upon  their  pil- 
grimage, which  he  had  already,  in  company 
with  his  brethren  and  the  whole  people,  so 
earnestly  besought.  Then,  with  an  affec- 
tionate wave  of  his  hand^  he  bade  adieu  to 
his  distant  friends,  and,  resuming  his  seat, 
bowed  his  head  in  silent  prayer.  At  the 
same  instant  a  wreath  of  smoke,  accompanied 


■'■'  >r' 


■        ■  f  K . 


12 


TEBE  JEAN. 


'-1 


vS- 


with  a  bright  flash,  burst  from  the  walls 
upon  the  heights  of  Abraham,  and  the  heavy 
sullen  roar  of  cannon  swept  in  a  moment 
more  across  the  waters,  while  the  cloud  of 
smoke  rose  slowly  and  spirally  towards  the 
heavens.  Father  Laval  raised  his  head  and 
gazed  for  a  single  instant  on  the  standard  of 
France,  as  it  waved  over  the  impregnable 
fortress,  and  then  resumed  his  prayer  and 
meditation.  No  sound  now  broke  upon  the 
ear  but  the  slight  splash  of  the  paddle,  as  it 
dipped  lightly  but  vigorously  in  the  stream, 
and  the  murmuring  of  the  rippling  current 
around  the  sharp  bow  of  the  canoe  in  its 
rapid  course.   '^  '  *    :  -  '>r^^     •  ^  ^  -    • 

The  young  novice  looked  upon  the  bright, 
glad  scene  around  him  with  a  subdued  plea- 
sure, now  curiously  watching  the  lithe  and 
active  forms  of  the  graceful  Indians  as  they 
bent  their  strength  to  their  paddles,  and 
now  casting  his  eye  towards  the  glorious 
scenery  that  bordered  on  the  St  Lawrence. 
Perhaps  scarce  twenty  summers  had  he 
numbered,  and  yet  he  seemed  already  to 
have  drank  in  the  severe  yet  serene  lessons 
of  the  Jesuit  school  of  endurance.    Parting 


PERE   JEAN. 


13 


from  the  midst  of  civilized  men,  going  un- 
armed and  defenceiess  through  paths  way- 
laid by  a  remorseless  enemy,  he  exhibited  no 
fear,  no  regrets ;  in  the  midst  of  novelty  and 
the  unequalled  beauty  of  the  view  around, 
he  permitted  no  extravagant  sign  of  delight 
to  escape  his  lips.  He  subdued  the  trans- 
port of  his  feelings  into  the  calmness  of 
tranquil  enjoyment,  and,  by  his  silence  and 
serenity,  won  the  admiring  regard  of  the 
stern  warriors  of  the  Hurons. 

At  length  Father  Laval  addressed  him. 
"Rene,  my  son,  we  have  entered  happily 
upon  our  arduous  journey.  How  beautiful 
is  this  earth  around  us, which  God  has  given 
to  man  for  the  scene  of  his  pilgriihage  I  He 
is  a  good  God,  my  children,  infinitely  loving. 
If  He  has  thus  cared  for  our  happiness  here, 
in  this  sojourn  on  earth,  what  has  He  not 
prepared  for  the  faithful  and  persevering 
servant  in  heaven?  Let  us  meditate  upon 
His  infinite  goodners,  and  mercy,  and  love. 
It  is  fitting  thus  to  begin  and  consecrate«our 
labors." 

The  Indians  assented  with  the  usual  short 
and  subdued  exclamation ;  and  for  a  space 


14 


PERE   JEAN. 


SN 


no  sonncl  was  heard  save  the  regular  strokes 
of  the  paddles,  while  the  caiioe  proceeded 
with  unslackened  speed.  After  some  time 
spent  in  meditation,  the  good  priest  employed 
himself  in  reciting  his  office,  and  Rene  Bour- 
doise  gazed  calmly  down  towards  the  receding 
towers  of  Quebec  until  he  canght  the  last 
glimpse  of  the  lofty  flag-staff  bearing  the 
banner  of  St.  Dennis.  As  the  scenery 
became  wilder  and  more  desolate,  his  mind 
began  to  recur  to  the  b.right  scenes  of  his 
native  land,  and  to  visit  once  more  the 
beautiful  and  populous  valleys  of  France. 
The  recollection  of  home  and  early  friends, 
of  parents  and  distant  kindred,  came  rush- 
ing upon  the  youth,  casting  a  dark  and 
gloomy  hue  upon  the  prospects  before  him. 
Desolation  and  danger  seemed  to  deepen 
round  him ;  yet,  suppressing  these  thoughts 
with  a  single  aspiration,  he  placed  himself 
under  the  invocation  of  the.  Virgin,  and 
devoted  himself  without  reserve  to  the  will 
of  God. 

It  was  in  this  spirit,  and  with  such  dis- 
positions, that  the  whites  of  the  party  entered 
on  their  voyage.  The  Hurons  were  seem- 
ingly indifferent  to  everything  but  the  com- 


TEP.E   JEAN. 


16 


fort  of  those  whom  they  were  guiding  and 
escorting  to  the  hunting-grounds  of  their 
tribe ;  and  were  only  warmed  into  life  and 
animation  by  the  fervor  of  their  hearts  when 
absorbed  in  religious  exercises.  They  dis- 
played in  nothing  that  there  was  danger  of 
assault,  whilst  they  were  prepared  for  any 
event. 

Father  Laval,  after  some  time,  closed  his 
book,  and,  turning  towards  the  leader  of 
the  party,  addressed  him :  '      • 

"  My  son,  what  think  you  is  the  prospect 
of  our  safely  passing,  by  the  waters,  to  the 
Huron  missions  ?  Were  it  not  better  to  land 
and  cross  the  forest  towards  the  Ottawa  ?  " 

After  a  moment'.^  pause,  Ahasistari  re- 
plied: "Father,  the  w^ay  is  long  and  toil- 
some for  the  white  man,  and  his  trail  is 
broad.  The  Mohawk  crosses  the  river,  and 
his  eye  is  keen.  The  running  waters  keep 
no  trail,  and  the  Huron  canoes  are  swift  and 
easy.  My  Father,  I  swear  to  tnee  that 
Ahasistari  will  share  thy  fortunes,  whether 
of  death  or  life."      '       ^    ^  "       '  '   *     v , 

"To  your  skill  and  judgment  I  confide 
the  choice  of  the  route — the  issue  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  Almighty." 


f 


.!.      ^ 


16 


TKRE   JEAN. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE     INSTRUCTION. 

F  the  Indians,  who  composed  the 
escort  of  the  missionaries,  some 
were  not  yet  baptized.  All,  how- 
ever, had  heard,  with  devout  atten- 
tion, the  preaching  of  the  Jesuit.  They 
had  listened  to  him  as  the  messenger  of 
wonderful  tidings,  and  had  believed.  But 
yet  the>  careful  priest  hesitated  long  to  admit 
to  the  regenerating  waters  of  baptism  those 
of  their  number  who,  he  feared,  were  not 
suflRciently  instructed  in  the  faith  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  The  untaught  Indian, 
accustomed  to  roam  through  the  wilderness, 
with  the  works  of  God  for  ever  before  his 
observant  eyes,  and  with  incomprehensi- 
bilities around  him,  unable  to  fathom  the 
mysteries  of  nature,  nay,  the  mysteries  of 
his  own  life,  felt  within  himself  the  con- 
viction of  a  supreme,  invisible  Exist0nce. 
With  the  book  of  nature  open  before  him, 
and  nature's  voice  ever  in  his  car,  he  might 


PERE   JEAN. 


17 


well,  by  the  dim  light  of  reason,  wander  into 
the  labyrinths  of  polytheism;  but  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  stifle  or  forget  the 
instinctive  belief  of  humanity  in  the  God 
invisible,  supreme  over  all.  The  unlettered 
wanderer  in  the  boundless  forests  had 
reached  the  same  point  of  knowledge  at 
which  it  had  been  possible  for  the  sage  of 
antiquity  to  arrive.  He  worshipped  the 
"unknown  God."  But  the  machinery  of 
the  universe  was  beyond  the  power  of  his 
reason,  and  he  found  a  minor  deity  in  every 
bird  and  beast  and  fish  and  tree  and  stone. 
When  the  Catholic  missionary  preached  to 
him  of  the  God  infinite,  supreme,  eternal, 
filling  all  space,  at  whose  will  the  world  and 
all  its  life  and  beauty  had  sprung  into  being, 
and  at  whose  will  the  earth  again  would  melt 
away,  who  was  the  Creator  and  the  Lord  of 
all,  and  "in  whom  all  things  lived  and 
moved  and  had  their  being,"  to  his  un- 
sophisticated mind  it  seemed  worthy  of  the 
great  Spirit  which  his  instinct  had  sought 
after  in  nature,  and  beyond  nature,  in  vain. 
The  piety  and  zeal  and  superior  knowl- 
edge  of   the    missionary   had    won    him 


18 


PEBB  JBAN. 


credence,  and  when  he  preached  to  them  of 
the  Saviour  who  had  come  upon  earth,  of 
His  death,  and  of  His  resurrection  for  the 
salvation  of  all,  and  unfolded  to  them  the 
evidences  of  Christianity,  they  listened  with 
reverence  to  his  words,  and  cherished  them 
in  their  hearts. 

In  his  own  canoe  Father  Jean  Laval  had 
placed  two  of  his  neophytes  for  the  purpose 
of  continuing  their  instruction  during  the 
voyage,  and  Bene  Bourdoise,  in  order  that 
he  might  be  schooled  in  the  best  mode  oi 
conveying  knowledge  to  the  simple-minded 
savage. 

"Huron,  dost  thou  know  who  created 
thee  ? "  he  said,  addressing  the  elder  of  the 
two,  a  warrior  of  some  note,  whose  instruc- 
tion he  had  but  lately  commenced. 

"The  great  Spirit,  who  made  the  earth 
and  the  waters  and  the  forests,"  replied 
Haukimah,  reverently. 

"And,  Huron,  did  He  make  the  buffalo 
and  the  bounding  deer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Father;  the  buffalo  and  the  bound- 
ing deer,  and  all  things  else  that  live." 

"And  did  He  make  thee  and  me  like  to 
them?" 


PEBE  JEAM. 


19 


<<My  fathers  taught  that  the  buffalo  and 
the'bonuding  deer  departed  to  the  hunting- 
ground  of  spirits  where  the  warrior's  shade 
pursued  them  as  here  on  earth.  It  is  wrong. 
The  black  gown  teacheth  that  the  great 
Spirit  made  man  like  Himself,  and  breathed 
His  breath  into  his  nostrils.  Heayen  was 
made  for  the  man  who  doeth  goodjt  The 
wild  beast  dies  and  perishes." 

Father  Jean  Laval,  from  the  foundation 
of  this  simple  questioning,  took  occasion  to 
explain  fully  and  minutely,  and  impress 
deeply  upon  the  mind  of  those  whom  he 
was  instructing,  the  history  of  man*s  crea- 
.tion,  his  fall,  and  the  promise  of  his  redemp- 
tion, fulfilled  by  the  coming,  the  passion, 
and  the  glorious  death  of  the  Sayiour  of  the 
world.  He  told  them  how  man's  nature 
became  corrupt  by  his  fall ;  how  he  became 
perverse  through  bis  disobedience,  prone  to 
evil,  subject  to  all  the  temptations  of  the 
devil. 

<<  It  is  that  which  makes  the  Iroquois  cruel 
and  blood-thirsty,"  said  the  younger  neo- 
phyte; "the  spirit  of  evil  is  within  him." 

<'As  he  is  with  all  bad  men,  my  son ;  as 


20 


PKBB  JEAN. 


ho  is  with  yon  when  you  indulge  revenge- 
ful feelings  towards  the  Iroquois.  When 
you  would  do  them  evil  for  evil.  You 
must  love  those  who  hate  you." 

"Shall  the  Huron  love  the  Iroquois?" 
exclaimed  the  young  warrior,  as  his  eyes 
glistened  with  awakened  passion,  and  his 
head  was  elevated  in  disdain.  "  Shall  the 
dove  and  the  hawk  nestle  together?" 

"Is  the  Huron  a  dove  in  his  heart?" 
broke  in  the  deep,  stern  voice  of  Ahnsistari; 
"the  dove  is  tender.  The  Huron  brave 
should  be  bold  and  fearless  like  the  eagle," 

"  Let  the  Huron  be  a  dove  in  his  heart," 
said  Father  Jean  Laval,  ere  the  young 
Indian  could  open  his  lips  again;  "let 
him  be  a  dove  in  purity,  in  meekness,  in 
piety,  in  love.  Let  him  be  the  eagle  of  his 
tribe  when  he  battles  in  a  just  and  lawful 
cause." 

"My  Father  has  spoken  well,"  replied  the 
chief,  in  a  changed  and  softened  tone. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  children,  your  first  duty  is 
to  God,  the  great  Spirit;  your  next  is  to  your 
neighbor.  The  good  Spirit  created  you  and 
all  men  to  love  Him  and  serve  Him,  and  He 


PEBE  JEAN. 


91 


L 


commands  you  to  love  one  another,  even 
your  enemies,  to  do  good  to  those  that  hate 
you.  If  the  Iroquois  is  fierce  and  bad,  pity 
him,  and  pray  that  he  may  become  better, 
that  he  may  listen  to  the  messengers  of 
Christ.  If  you  hate  the  Iroquois,  in  what 
are  you  better  than  he?'* 

"  It  is  good,"  said  Ahasistari,  "  it  is  like  a 
God  to  forgive." 

And  then  Father  Laval  proieeded  to 
inculcate  upon  his  hearers  the  virtues  which 
were  necessarry  to,  and  which  adorned  the 
Christian,  showing  how  the  principles  of 
religion  were  cHtwined  around  all  the  ties 
of  life,  and  how  they  were  connected  with 
and  ruled  every  circumstance  of  our  moral 
existence.  He  instructed  them  in  the  rules 
which  should  govern  them  in  their  inter- 
course with  all  men,  and  the  charity  so  sub- 
lime and  superhuman  which  they  should 
cultivate  in  their  hearts.  Thus  seizing 
every  word  and  every  trifling  circumstance, 
he  made  them  the  occasion  and  the  vehicle 
of  useful  instruction,  and  the  means  of 
initiating  them  into  the  spirit  and  practice 
as  well  as  the  doctrines  of  the  Catholic 
Church. 


9i 


PERE   JEAX. 


Occfisioi  ;i)ly,  to  relievo  their  minds  and 
t^  break  the  continuous  length  of  his 
instructions,  he  would  interpose  a  pruyor; 
and  occupy  himself  in  teaching  them  the 
responses  to  th^  litanies  and  the  prayers 
of  the  Rosary.  They  listened  with  docility, 
and  learned  with  quickness  the  portions 
assigned  to  them,  and  the  warriors  seemed 
to  vie  with  each  other  in  acquiring  that  great 
and  supereminent  knowledge  which  the 
Father  of  the  black  gown  dispensed  to 
them.  Thrice  a  day,  morning,  nooii  and 
nighty  the  Jesuit  and  Bene  Bourdoise,  the 
novice,  in  accordance  with  their  previously 
adopted  resolution,  recited  the  llosary,  to 
procure,  through  the  intercession  of  the 
Mother  of  God,  Lhe  blessings  of  heaven 
upon  their  mission.  Ahasistari  and  the 
Catholic  Indians  joined  in  the  responses 
with  devoutness,  and  seemed  never  to  weary 
under  their  labors  while  thus  cheered  with 
the  refreshing  dew  of  prayer. 

In  this  pious  occupation  the  day  passed 
pleasantly  and  quickly  round.  F  ;  hr  •  l.tival, 
each  time  they  lanced  to  prepare  ^I>^i;  "  :gal 
repasts,  assembled  the  whole  party  around 


^tt 


» .  v.. 


FERE   JEAN. 


2d 


tl 

IS 

16 
•8 

h 
18 

(1 

tt 

le 
;o 
d 
le 

y 


him,  gavo  them  a  short  instruction,  attd, 
having  I  lossed  tliCir  food,  sat  down  upon 
the  grass  with  them,  and  shared  their  fr  igal 
fare. 

As  night  approached,  Ahasistari  began  to 
look  about  for  a  convenient  spot  to  bivouac 
upon,  and  at  length  selected  a  beautiful  and 
secluded  indenture  in  the  river  banks,  shaded 
by  lofty  trees,  and  protected  and  rendered 
almost  impenetrable  from  the  land  by  the 
thick  undergrowth,  reaching  some  distance 
back  from  the  shore.  Here  ILey  landed, 
and,  drawing  up  their  canoes  upoh  the  bank, 
prepared  to  pass  the  night  upon  the  spot 
After  their  evening  meal  had  been  de- 
spatched, Father  Laval  was  about  to  com- 
mence an  instruction  or  exhortation  to  his 
companions,when  Ahasistari  approacl-ed  him 
respectfully,  and  said : 

^  My  Father,  the  Mohawk  may  be  a^)road; 
his  ear  is  quick," 

"  Perhaps  it  is  better,"  said  Father  Laval, 
carrying  out  the  thought  of  the  other,  vitli- 
out  replying  directly  to  hia  words.  -  My 
children,  meditate  in  silence  on  what  you 
have  been  taught  this  day,  and  pray  to  God 


'■;■'  v;  .» 

24:                               PEEE  JEAN. 

■ 

for  protection,  invoking  the  intercession  of 

Mary,  our  holy  Mother."     .                 u 

Wrapping  themselves  in  their  blankets, 

after  bending  their  knees  in  silent  prayer. 

the  Indians  stretched  themselves  upon  the 

watchful    sleep    of    men    accustomed    to 

\ » 

ground,  and  soon  sunk  into  the  light  and 
snatch  their  repose  in  the  midst  of  danger. 
The   Jesuit    and  Bene  Bourdoise  did  not 

w 

so   easily   betake   themselves   to   slumber. 
For  the  novice  especially  was  it  a  situation 

,-l 

calculated  to  drive  sleep  from  his  eyelids, 
until  nature  should  sink  into  unconscious- 
ness from  exhaustion.    As  he  lay  wakeful 
and  apprehensive,  he  turned  his  eye  fre- 
quently upon  the  form  of  Ahasistari,  which, 
''        in  the  indistinct  light, was  barely  discernible 

A 

to  the  steady  gaze.    Occasionally  a  bright 
gleam   from    the    expiring   embers   would 

' 

lighten  up  the  picturesque   figure  of  the 
Indian.    The  warrior  sat  at  the  foot  of  a 

• 

tree,  resting  his  head  upon  his  hand  in  a 

careless  manner,  which  seemed  to  the  young 

:' 

novice  to  be  the  attitude  of  one  wrapt  in 

thought  and  contemplation.    Ahasistari  was 

;     1 

meditating;  but  every  outward  sense  was  on 

1 

• 

I 

1 

PEKE   JEAN. 


25 


the  alert,  eager  to  catch  the  slightest  sound 
or  motion  on  the  forest  or  upon  the  murmur- 
ing river.  The  stars  were  looking  down 
from  heaven  sweetly  and  tenderly,  shedding 
a  dim  light  upon  the  moving  waters,  whose 
broken  surface  reflected  the  countless  pen- 
cils of  light  in  myriad  forms  of  quivering 
beauty.  The  unbroken  silence  of  the  forest 
was  distinct  and  clear  from  the  murmuring 
of  the  waters  on  the  shore  with  that  dis- 
tinctness which  the  listening  ear,  hanging 
over  the  crystal  wave,  can  judge  between 
the  stillness  and  quiescence  of  the  solemn 
grove  and  the  sweet,  low  music  of  the  living 
stream.  The  air  was  mild  and  calm.  It 
was  a  night  to  worship  God  in. 

The  hours  passed,  and  the  motionless 
form  of  the  watching  Indian  seemed  to  the 
dull  and  closing  eye  of  the  novice  to  swell 
into  gigantic  size,  and  then  to  shrink  and 
ftide  away  to  nothingness,  until,  in  the  im- 
perceptible sinking  of  his  senses  under 
fatigue  and  slumber,  the  beauteous  scene 
around  him  passed  from  before  his  closed 
orbs,  and  lis  spirit  began  to  wander  in  the 
sunny  fields  of  his  own  dear  France.    How 


26                               PERE  JEAN.                       "                        ^ 

long  he  slept  he  knew  not,  but  he  was  at 

length  aroused  by  the  hand  of  the  Indian 

' 

upon  his  shoulder.    It  was  not  yet  day,  but 

' 

every  preparation  had  already  been  made  to 

depart,  and  the  kindness  of  the  chief  had 
permitted  the  young  man  to  enjoy  unbroken, 
until  the  last  moment,  the  deep  and  refresh- 
ing slumber  which  had  wrapped  his  senses. 
Leaping  up  from  his  hard  couch,  the  young 

' 

novice  performed   his   morning   devotions, 
and,  having  made  his  ablution  in  the  run- 
ning waters,  was  ready  to  take  his  seat  i?^ 

; 

the   canoe    the    moment  it  was  launched. 

Father  Laval  had  resolved  that  Ren6  Bour- 

" 

doise  and  himself  should  occupy  different 
canoes  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage,  in 
order  that  the  young  man  might  be  employed 

. 

as  well  as  himself  in  instructing  the  cate- 
chumens, of  whom,  as  we  have  already  said, 
there  was  a  number  not  yet  fully  prepared 
scattered  throughout  the  fleet.    In  a  few 
moments  the  dark  forms  of  the  canoes  shot 
out  from  the  banks  of  the  river,  keeping 
within  the  verge  of  the  heavy  shadows  of 
the  overhanging  woods,  and  pursuing  their 

course  rapidly  and  silently  towards  the  new 

-.          '                ,    -"    •  i«.  •"        -  -  "^  • 

^  ■  \ 

J 

-■■*:■  .■■ 


FEBE  JEAN. 


27 


fort  of  Montreal.  Ere  the  day  dawned,  they 
had  proceeded  many  miles  upon  their  jour- 
ney, when,  striking  deeper  into  the  current, 
the  canoes  drew  out  in  a  more  extended 
line,  and  continued  on  their  course. 


■:  ".  -,-■  **  ,~r--.-'^' 


^S   C"--il. 


>-■• 


'  j^. 


,  t 


!'■■■ 


.*..;  -'-. 


■;■  ■.-!*    -i^ 


28 


PERE  JEAN. 


CHAPTER   IV. 


1( 


I.- 


'P 


f // 


NIGHT    UPON   THE    WATERS. 

EVERAL  days  were  happily  passed 
in  this  manner,  and,  although 
the  progress  of  the  party  had 
heen  regular,  the  declining  sun 
of  the  fourth  day  found  them  still  distant 
from  the  sheltering  walls  of  Montreal.  As 
they  were  now  in  the  most  dangerous  por- 
tion of  their  passage  between  the  two  forts, 
it  was  determined  not  to  land,  but  to  con- 
tinue their  voyage  during  the  night;  the 
Indians  relieving  each  other  at  the  paddle, 
and  snatching  a  moment's  repose,  while  the 
canoes  proceeded  slowly,  and  with  diminished 
force  up  the  river. 

Stretching  themselves  upon  the  bottom  of 
the  canoes.  Father  Laval  and  Rene  Bour- 
doise  prepared  to  sleep,  having  committed 
themselves  to  the  keeping  of  God.  The 
novice  had  already  become  in  a  manner 
accustomed  to  the  novelty  of  his  situation. 


PERE  JEAN. 


2,9 


and  its  danger  from  familiarity  began  to 
lose  the  terror  which  it  had  at  first  pos- 
sessed. Sleep  soon  closed  his  eyes,  for  his 
heart  was  pure,  and  he  had  learned  to  look 
on  death  too  long  in  the  stern  training  of  the 
Christian  soldier  to  dread  his  approach, 
come  apparelled  as  he  might. 

Even  reflecting  upon  life,  the  Jesuit  is 
taught  to  look  to  its  last  end,  to  value  it  as 
a  means,  worthless  in  itself,  priceless  when 
laid  down  to  purchase  immortal  bliss. 
Death  has  no  pangs  for  him;  for  him  it 
cannot  sever  any  earthly  ties ;  the  only  tie 
that  binds  him  to  this  earth  leads  through 
the  portals  of  the  tomb  to  heaven.  Those 
gates,  to  most  men  so  dark  and  gloomy,  are 
but  the  triumphal  arch  through  which  he 
shall  pass  when  the  victory  over  sin  and 
hell  is  won  for  him.  Constant  meditation 
has  cooled  his  passions,  stemmed  their  rapid 
flow,  and  taught  him  well  the  utter  worth- 
lessness  of  earthly  pride  and  pleasures  and 
possessions.  He  follows  the  command  of 
the  Saviour  to  the  youtli  who  sought  the 
rule  of  perfection.  He  strips  himself  of 
earthly  riches.      He  is  ready  then  to   go 


\\ 


'% 


30 


PERE  JEAXsT. 


forth  upon  the  world,  without  staff  or  scrip 
or  raiment,  to  do  God's  work,  prepared  for 
nfe  or  death  in  obedience  to  the  will  of  his 
Divine  Master.  1    .  ^'  ^ 

Calmly  and  sweetly,  trusting  in  the  loving 
care  of  the  mother  under  whose  powerful 
intercession  he  had  placed  himself,  the  novice 
slept  the  sleep  of  youth.  Soft  tones,  old  and 
fond  remembrances,  kind  voices  and  familiar 
names  seemed  once  more  to  mingle  in  his 
slumbering  sense,  with  the  light  murmur  of 
the  rippling  wave  and  the  low  music  of  the 
zephyr  that  fanned  his  cheek.  Dear  faces 
beamed  upon  him.  He  sat  again  beside  the 
well  worn  and  familiar  hearth,  and  his  gray- 
haired  father  smiled  once  more  upon  the  son 
he  loved,  the  son  of  his  old  age  vowed  to  the 
service  of  his  God.  For  such  was  the  youth- 
ful Rene :  from  childhood  dedicated  to  the 
altar,  breathing  the  pure  atmosphere  of  its 
unpolluted  precincts,  conscious  even  in  his 
father's  house  and  in  his  early  years  of  the 
solemn  duty  which  lay  before  him  for  his 
future  life.  Sweetly  came  the  recollection 
of  his  childhood's  home,  and  those  dear  old 
faces,  with  their  beaming  smiles,  melting 


PERE   JEAN. 


81 


from  beneath  the  frosts  of  years,  of  stern 
study  and  deep  holy  meditation,  which  had 
schooled  his  heart  into  higher,  nobler 
thought,  of  sweeter,  purer  love— love  to  the 
Father  of  all  fathers,  engrossing  and  sub- 
limating all  true  love  in  his  young  heart 
But  now  in  dreams  fondly  retracing  many  a 
thousand  league,  and  many  a  toilsome  year, 
the  human  spirit,  true  to  its  human  nature, 
back  to  its  old  affections  and  its  mortal  ties 
went  hurrying — ^but  not  forgetful  of  its  own 
heavenward  destiny.  It  was  pure  happi- 
ness, pure  infantile  joy,  such  as  in  childhood 
he  had  felt — for  now  it  seemed  to  him  that 
once  again  ho  was  a  child — a  thoughtless, 
gay  and  cheerful  child — without  a  care, 
without  a  fear,  with  no  responsibility  and 
with  no  feeling  but  of  the  present  moment 
The  waters  of  the  flowing  river  murmured 
in  his  ear,  and  fancy  broke  the  changeless 
sound  into  some  sweet  old  melody  once  sung 
to  him  by  fond  maternal  lips.  The  light 
but  quivering  stroke  of  the  bending  paddle 
swaying  the  fragile  bark,  and  its  soft  and 
gentle  motion  as  it  cut  the  waters,  rooked 
him  sweetly  till  he  lay  like  an  infant  slum- 


{- 


32 


PERE  JEAN. 


bering  on  its  mother's  breast.  Thus  slept 
the  youthful  novice. 

Father  Laval  had  more  care  upon  his 
mind,  and  it  was  long  before  he  gave  way  to 
the  weariness  that  hung  upon  his  eyelids. 
He  felt  that  the  critical  hour  had  arrived ; 
for  if  the  company  once  reached  Montreal 
and  commenced  to  ascend  the  Ottawa,  there 
was  less  danger  of  being  attacked  by  a  force 
more  powerful  than  their  own.  At  length 
he  too  composed  himeelf  to  slumber,  confid- 
ing himself  to  the  protection  of  an  all- seeing 
God. 

As  leader  of  the  party,  Ahasistari,  insensi- 
ble to  fatigue  when  the  safety  of  his  charge 
might  be  at  issue,  watched  all  night.  To 
the  enduring  nature  of  the  Indian  this  was 
little,  and  his  band  only  sought  occasional 
repose,  in  order  that  a  portion  might  be 
fresh  and  prepared  for  any  event.  From 
the  prow  of  his  canoe,  which  had  drawn 
from  the  rear  to  the  head  of  the  line,  the 
chief  scanned,  with  keen  and  watchful  eye 
either  shore  of  the  river  as  they  ascended. 
But  all  nature  slept,  and  it  seemed  as  if  with 
nature  even  the  fell  heart  of  man  was  at  rest. 


TEKE  JEAN. 


33 


No  mark  or  trace  of  an  enemy  meu  his  eye; 
for  even  in  the  dim  light,  of  the  stars  the 
wondrous  sense  of  an  Indian  warrior  might 
detect  the  presence  of  his  foe,  and  the 
slightest  sound,  the  breaking  of  a  twig,  might 
be  heard  in  the  stillness  of  the  hour  over  the 
murmuring  waters.  But  all  things  were 
silent,  and  the  chief  began  to  hope  that 
perhaps  no  Mohawks  were  out  lying  along 
the  river,  and  that  their  passage  would  be 
made  without  difficulty  or  danger.  But  he 
did  not  become  less  watchful. 

At  length  the  dark  starlit  canoi)y  began 
to  lighten  up  faintly  towards  the  east.  Dim 
and  almost  imperceptible  was  the  first  pre- 
cursor of  the  dawn,  merely  a  lesser  darkness. 
Thus  it  passed  for  many  minutes,  making 
the  summits  of  the  far  hills  sharper  and 
more  distinct,  and  shrouding  the  lower 
forest  in  deeper  gloom.  Gradually  the  view 
became  more  distinct,  and  a  quick  eye  might 
barely  trace  the  forms  of  nature.  The 
canoes  were  now  approaching  a  narrower 
portion  of  the  river,  and  Ahasistari  became 
more  watchful  than  before.  At  length  his 
eye  sjeraed  to  fix  upon  a  portion  of  the  forest 


V 

1                                        ■•          '         ^        '" 

• 

■f    '     ■      ». 
3J:                             PERK  JEAN. 

that  overhung  the  river  above  them  on  their 
route — then  he  raised  it  up  towards  the  sky 
above  the  woods.    The  scrutiny  did  not  seem 
to  satisfy  him,  and,  guiding  the  canoe  from 
the  shore  so  as  to  bring  the  object  more  to 
the  light,  he  watched  it  as  the  barks  moved 
on.    The  warriors  in  the  rearward  canoes 

observed  the  motion,  but  with  apparent  in- 

♦ 

difference  still  urged  on  their  frail  vessels, 
knowing  the    skill    and  coolness  of  their 
leader.    In  a  little  while  the  motion  of  the 
canoe  brought  the  top  of  that  portion  o£  the 

n 

forest  opposite  a  bright,  clear  star,  and  across 

'a 

its  face  for  a  single  instant  came  a  dimness 
like  that  caused  by  a  thin,  wiry  column  of 

smoke  or  vapor. 

"Ugh!  "  exclaimed  the  chief,  in  the  deep 
guttural  tone  peculiar  to  tb^  Indian,  and 
with  a  sudden  motion  of  his  paddle  he  sent 
the  canoe  whirling  in  towards  the  southern 

i 

■ 

1 

■ 

shore  under  the  shadows  of  the  hills.    Then 
staying  its  progress,  he  crouched  close  to 
diminish  the  risk  of  observation  by  any 

■i 
i 
< 

wandering  eye  that  might  be  upon  the  shore. 
His  example  was  silently  followed,  and  soon 

1 

the  line  of  canoes  lay  within  the  verge  of 

.    '^     '            ■            ■  /     ,      .  ^      \ 

11                • 

:^^A;   -;    '■.-:;:a  '    •      ■..,■•                    -  V..;.    -    *■     -            ...              ...•-.  ..      .<    :  ■   - 

... 

TERE  JEAN. 


35 


the  dark  shadows  motionless  and  seemingly 
unoccupied.  Not  a  question  was  asked ;  no 
anxiety  or  curiosity  was  manifested;  the 
warriors  coldly  and  impassively  waited  the 
motions  of  their  chief. 

The  keen  eye  of  Ahasistari  still  scanned 
the  forest  with  quick  and  suspicious  glances, 
when  a  slight  sound  struck  upon  his  ear :  it 
seemed  like  the  snapping  of  a  twig  beneath 
a  light  and  cautious  tread.  The  sound  was 
very  faint,  but  it  did  not  escape  the  ear  of  a 
single  warrior,  the  youngest  and  least  prac- 
ticed. The  Jesuit,  who  lay  in  the  canoe  of 
the  leader,  began  to  turn  uneasily  in  his 
sleep  affected  by  the  change  from  motion  to 
rest,  and  his  breathing  seemed  to  grow 
louder  in  the  stillness  of  things  around. 
Ahasistari  pointed  with  his  finger  to  the 
sleeping  missionary,  and  Haukimah,  t'le  neo- 
phyte, stooped  down  low  over  the  good 
Father  and  gently  laid  his  hand  upon  his 
shoulder.  In  a  moment  Father  Laval  opened 
his  eyes  with  a  slight  start,  but  the  low 
"hist I"  and  the  finger  of  the  neophyte 
pressed  upon  his  lips,  instinctively  visible  in 
the  gray  light,  immediately  recalled  him  to 


86 


PERE  JEAN. 


consciousness.  A  single  glance  enabled  him 
to  catch  at  least  a  general  idea  of  the  situa- 
tion of  affairs,  and,  raising  his  heart  in 
prayer,  he  awaited  with  resignation  the  end, 
whatsoever  it  might  be.  Similar  was  the 
awakening  of  Rene  Bourdoise.  The  young 
novice,  we  have  said,  had  sooner  fallen  into 
a  deep  and  refreshing  slumber,  and  the  first 
checking  of  the  speed  of  the  canoe  had 
startled  him,  and  its  ceasing  had  aroused 
him.  Observing  the  state  of  preparation 
around  him,  his  young  French  blood,  fiery 
yet  in  spite  of  its  cold  training  from  worldly 
feeling,  began  to  glow  as  ho  thought  that 
the  enemies  of  France  and  the  foes  of  his 
religion  might  perhaps  be  at  that  moment 
lying  within  reach,  and  that  battle  between 
man  and  man,  in  which  he  durst  bear  no 
part,  might  soon  take  place  before  his  eyes. 
It  was  not  without  an  effort  that  he  suc- 
ceeded in  restraining  these  feelings,  and 
giving  himself  up  to  the  weapons  of  prayer 
and  humiliation  of  spirit.  A  young,  bright, 
glowing  heart  had  Rene  Bourdoise.  Watook, 
his  pupil,  who  sat  by  his  side,  observed  the 
mental  struggle  of  the  young  ecclesiastic, 


TKKE   JEAN. 


37 


and  marked  the  sparkling  of  his  eye,  and  his 
hearfc  swelled  with  a  deeper  affection  as  he 
beheld  the  subdued  workings  of  the  noble 
spirit  within. 

"Will  the  young  blackgown  share  Wa- 
took*s  weapons  ?  "  he  said  in  a  low  whisper ; 
"  Watook  has  a  keen  and  polished  knife,  and 
his  carbine  is  sure — they  shall  be  his 
brother's.  "Watook  will  use  the  weapons  of 
his  people."  As  he  spoke  the  generous 
young  warrior  drew  the  knife  from  his  belt 
and  tendered  the  arms  to  the  young  novice. 

A  deep  blush  suffused  the  fine  face  of 
Ilene  Bourdoise.  It  is  impossible  to  tell 
what  feeling  most  predominated  in  the 
inward  struggle,  and  sent  the  evidence  of 
shame  tingling  to  his  cheek ;  whether  was 
it  the  manhood  and  the  spirit  of  flesh  yet 
unsubdued  within  him,  that  scorned  to  act 
like  a  woman  when  the  strife  should  come, 
and  yet  durst  not  receive  the  proffered 
weapons  which  must  remain  so  idle  in  his 
hands ;  or  was  it  a  conscious  shame  that  his 
demeanor,  forgetful  of  the  bearing  of  tho 
Christian  messenger  of  love  and  faith,  had 
wakened  in  the  heart  of  the  savage  such 


,</■ 


38 


PERE  JEAN. 


■"i?^ 


// 


tlioughts  as  caused  his  oifer,  v/hen  he  should 
have  been  preparing  with  silent  prayer  and 
resignation  to  win  his  martyr's  crown  ?  He 
gazed  upon  the  weapons  for  a  moment,  but 
the  training  of  the  novice  amidst  silence  and 
contemplation  was  too  strong  for  the  im- 
pulse of  the  passions,  and  putting  them  aside 
he  saiJ: 

,  "Keep  your  arms,  my  brother!  They 
would  be  useless  in  my  hands;  I  know  not 
how  to  wield  them.  I  am  a  man  of  peace. 
None  vowed  to  the  service  of  the  altar  may 
stain  their  hands  in  human  blood,  but  must 
submit  to  the  trials  which  are  given  them. 
Oh,  my  Father  I "  he  continued,  mentally, 
"who  readest  all  hearts,  forgive  the  sinful 
thoughts  which  carried  me  away  and  stirred 
up  the  evil  of  my  nature;"  and  bowing 
down  his  head  he  sat  composed  and  motion- 
less, not  less  the  wonder  than  the  admira- 
tion of  the  man,  who  saw  that  fear  had 
nothing  to  do  with  conduct  to  him,  hitherto 
little  acquainted  with  the  missionaries,  so 
inexplicable. 

As  the  caii03S  swung  in  towards  the  shore 
impelled  by  an  occasional  stroke    of  the 


PERE  JEAN. 


89 


paddle,  the  current  bore  them  somewhat 
lower  down  the  river.  The  descent  was  evi- 
dent, for  the  trees  upon  the  bank  seemed 
slowly  to  pa?s  by  them,  as  it  were,  giving 
the  appearance  of  rest  to  the  canoes.  The 
Indians  did  not  endeavor  to  keep  them  on 
their  former  course,  but  permitted,  them  to 
drop  gently  down  the  stream.  Father  Laval 
kept  his  eye  intently  fixed  upon  the  forest; 
but  he  found  it  difficult  to  penetrate  the 
darkness  which  shrouded  it  The  canoes 
had  now  reached  a  point  where  the  under- 
wood was  not  so  thick  as  that  above,  and 
where  there  was  but  little  danger  of  an  am- 
bush. Ahasistari  again  emitted  a  low  ex- 
clamation, and  pointed  towards  an  open  part 
of  the  forest.  The  eye  of  Father  Laval 
follo^ved  the  direction,  and  up  the  stream,  in 
the  rear  of  the  heavy  underwood,  he  caught 
a  momentary  glimpse  of  the  dying  embers 
of  a  fire.  The  thick  trunk  of  a  tree  in  the 
next  instant  concealed  it  from  his  sight. 
There  v/as  no  sign  of  life  or  motion  near  it 
or  around  it.  He  again  assumed  his  place 
at  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  from  which  he 
had  raised  himself  to  look  around.    The  eye 


>. 


w :. 


40 


PEEE   JEAN. 


of  the  chief  was  now  turned  upon  the  por- 
tion of  the  forest  immediately  before  them, 
and  he  held  a  consultation  in  low  tones  with 
the  old  warrior  by  his  side. 

"Haukimah,  the  trail  is  there,"  he  said, 
pointing  to  a  spot  which  seemed  to  the 
Jesuit,  who  again  raised  his  head  as  the 
chief  spoke,  to  present  no  marks  by  which . 
to  distinguish  it  from  the  banks  above  or 
below  it.  _  V        ^ 

"  Yes,  the  Mohawk  has  left  it  broad— a 
yengecse  might  follow  in  it:  the  Mohawk  is 
cunning! 

**He  is  a  wolf,  but  he  leaves  his  trail  like 
a  bear.*' 

The  old  Indian  shook  his  head  doubt- 
ingly,  and  after  a  moment's  pause  replied : 

**  The  Iroquois  can  hide  his  trail  if  he  will 
— he  is  strong;  he  has  left  a  broad  trail." 

"No,  he  would  have  concealed  it  then." 

"Yes,  if  making  an  ambush;  but  he  is 
strong  and  fears  not  pursuit;  his  fire  is 
burning  out;  he  has  gone ; "  and  Haukimah 
pointed  towards  the  south.  r 

It  did  not  seem  impossible  that  the  party  of 
Mohawks  had  passed  on  by  that  route  during 


► 


^^' 


-V     . 


I 


► 


PERE   JEAN. 


41 


the  night,  leaving  their  fire  behind  them 
unextinguished,  and  their  trail  so  broad  as 
to  negative  the  idea  of  an  ambush  at  that 
spot;  yet  the  chief  d3termined  to  reconnoitre 
more  closely  before  he  ventured  to  pass 
onwards  in  front  of  the  suspicious  spot,  and 
thus  expose  liis  party  to  the  certainty  of  dis- 
covery and  pursuit. 

The  light  had  already  become  more  dis- 
tinct, and  the  marks  about  which  the  war- 
riors differed  became  at  last  visible  to  Father 
Laval  himself,  though  had  not  his  attention 
been  directed  to  the  spot  he  could  not  have 
discovered  their  existence.  The  low  bushes 
on  the  edge  of  the  water  were  displaced  and 
beaten  down,  though  portions  seemed  as  if 
carefully  replaced,  while  the  underwood 
above  on  the  higher  portion  of  the  bank, 
which  extended  upwards  a  lew  feet  from  the 
surface  of  the  water,  presented  on  their 
lower  branches  bent  and  broken  boughs  and 
torn  leave£',  as  if  done  by  the  grasp  of  per- 
sons carelessly  ascending.  The  canoes  still 
continued  to  near  the  shore,  and  were  kept 
by  the  occasional  stroke  of  the  paddle  from 
descending  farther  down  the  current.    They 


'■'%■■ 


42 


TERE   JEAN. 


// 


were  now  within  a  very  short  distance  of  the 
bank,  but  it  was  impossible  to  discover  there 
the  least  evidence  of  life  or  motion,  and  the 
two  Frenchmen  began  to  comfort  themselves 
with  the  reflection  that  the  Indians  had  de- 
parted, and  that  nothing  was  to  be  appre- 
hended. The  Hurons,  however,  were  still 
silent  and  watchful,  cautiously  concealing  as 
much  of  their  bodies  as  they  could  in  their 
canoes.  The  chief  again  turned  and  spoke 
in  a  low  tone  to  Haukimah. 

"  How  many  does  my  brother  count  upon 
the  sand  ?  "  and  he  pointed  to  the  bank  at 
the  edge  of  the  water. 

The  old  warrior  held  up  tl»rcc  fingers. 

"Yes,  there  were  but  three  canoes  ol 
them,"  said  Ahasistari;  "there  is  nothing 
to  fear." 

Father  Laval  looked  in  wonder  for  the 
indications  from  which  the  warriors  had 
drawn  their  conclusion,  but  in  vain.  To  the 
Indian  they  were  plain  enough.  It  seemed 
that  the  Mohawks,  if  Mohawks  they  were, 
had  proceeded  with  an  utter  disregard  of  the 
usual  precautions  which  Indians,  especially 
in  an  enemy's  country,  adopted  to  conceal 


y 


♦ 


:..,|,  J 


■% 


PERE   JEAN. 


43 


^- 


their  path.  On  the  sand  the  prints  of  moc- 
casined  feet  were  stamped  deeply,  but  were 
scarcely  perceptible  in  the  dim  light,  and  in 
three  places,  close  together,  the  indentures 
made  by  the  bow  of  a  canoe  carelessly 
dragged  from  the  water  were  iiidistinctly 
seen.  Whilst  the  two  chiefs  more  closely 
examined  the  shore  to  discover  if  any  de- 
ception were  practiced  upon  them,  the  canoe 
in  which  the  novice  was  placed  shot  up 
towards  them,  and  the  young  Indian  Watook, 
uttering  a  hiss  like  that  of  the  water  snake 
— so  like  that  Father  Laval  involuntarily 
started  with  disgust  at  the  seeming  prox- 
imity of  the  imaginary  reptile — exclaimed, 
"The  Mohawk  I"  v  -    , 

Every  eye  followed  the  direction  of  his 
extended  hand,  and  at  the  moment  a  dusky 
form  was  seen  darting  rapidly  from  one  tree 
to  another  lower  down  and  nearer  the 
canoes.  An  instant  after  a  wild  yell  broke 
from  the  forest;  the  flash  of  rifles  lit  up  itj 
dark  shades  and  gleamed  upon  the  waters ; 
a  cloud  of  arrows  rattled  down  upon  them, 
and  half  stifled  groans  arose  from  the  canoes. 
Every  shot  came  from  above,  none  as  yefc 


\ 


44 


TEKE   JEAN. 


from  the  forest  in  front  or  below  the  canoes. 
None  was  returned.  Covered  with  dense 
smoke,  and  concealed  in  their  coverts,  the 
unseen  foe  would  have  suffered  little  from 
the  fire  of  the  canoes  had  they  returned  it. 
The  moment  that  the  yell  broke  out  Father 
Laval  felt  the  light  boat  spring  suddenly  in 
the  water  impelled  by  the  powerful  arms  of 
the  Hurons,  who  sternly  and  silently  bent 
to  their  paddles,  hoping  to  reach  a  cover, 
and  make  successful  defence.  The  dis- 
covery, the  war-cry  and  the  rattling  volley 
followed  each  other  almost  instantaneously ; 
but  the  impulse  to  the  light  barks  had  been 
so  quick  and  strong  that  ere  the  ToUey 
pealed  they  had  cleared  half  the  space 
towards  the  shore.  It  was  a  fortunate  move- 
ment; the  rapidity  of  their  progress  had 
rendered  the  aim  of  their  ambushed  foes  un- 
certain, with  the  clumsy  and  unsure  weapons 
with  which  the  Dutch  of  New  York  scantily 
furnished  them  in  their  trade.  But  the 
speed  of  the  canoe  began  to  relax,  broken 
paddles  floated  in  the  water,  and  the  Indians 
who  had  borne  them  crouched  low,  grasping 
their  arms,  and  watching  intently  for  some 


k 


i  ■  J 


-  f 


TEKE   JEAN. 


45 


'    ! 


object,  lieaJ,  leg  or  arm,  to  aim  at.  The 
Jesuit  felt  the  water  slowly  rising  round  his 
feet — the  canoe  was  riddled,  and  was  filling 
fust.  Little  better  was  the  fate  of  the  rest. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  foe  had  aimed  principally 
at  the  canoes,  as  if  to  prevent  escape,  and 
had  all  their  shots  taken  effect  they  must 
have  tank  at  once. 

It  was  a  moment  of  intense  anxiety — 
death  from  the  ambush,  death  from  the 
wave,  was  before  them  and  around.  It  was 
doubtful  whether  they  could  reach  the  shore. 
In  the  midst  of  danger  there  was  one  thought 
more  painful  to  the  Jesuit  than  the  thought 
of  death.  There  were  those  around  him  who 
had  not  yet  been  baptized,  and  with  agony 
he  reflected  that  each  pealing  shot,  each 
hissing  shaft,  might  send  one  of  these  unfor- 
tunate children  of  the  forest,  unwashed  from 
the  dark  stain  of  sin,  to  the  presence  of  his 
God.  The  shots  that  every  instant  whistled 
around  him  had  no  terrors  for  him:  the 
deep  responsibility  of  human  souls  was  upon 
him. 

The  old  warrior  Haukimah  sat  motionless 
before   him.    His   face  was  rested  on  his 


■■  t. 


46 


TEKB   JEAN. 


hand,  his  rifle  lay  across  his  knee— he 
looked  steadily  in  the  face  of  the  priest,  and 
marked  with  deep  concern  the  pain  which 
shot  across  his  features.  The  hunting  shirt 
of  the  warrior  was  dripping  with  blood, 
yet  no  sign  of  pain  escaped,  but  a  wistful 
glance  lingered  upon  his  face  as  he  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  the  countenance  of  the  Jesuit. 

"  You  are  woundeJ  ?  "  said  Father  Laval. 

The  Indian  slowly  and  somewhat  pain- 
fully bowed  his  head. 

"And  seriously — it  is  near  your  heart?" 
continued  the  priest. 

"  Haukimah's  last  fight  is  fought,"  replied 
the  Indian,  patiently:  "he  will  go  to  the 
spirit  land."  ^  ■' 

II    "And,  alas!  you  have  not  yet  bcsn  bap- 
tized." -■-■^:-  -    ■  ■■  ^   ■  ■  '  ^■-■r--^'---' 

"I  have  sought  it — I  wait! "      -    ^ 

"Yes,  it  has  been  delayed  that  you  might 
be  further  instructed :  you  have  teen  in- 
structed— it  can  be  delayed  no  longer." 

A  faint  smile  of  joy  passed  over  the  stern 
features  of  the  wounded  man,  and  their  look 
of  fixed  determinafon  relaxed  into  a  softer 
expression. 


{' 


-A 


PERK   JEAN. 


47 


"  It  is  good,''  he  suiil,  quietly. 

"Do  ytu  repent  for  all  your  ofil^nces 
agaist  the  good  Spirit  ?  " 

"I  have  ever  loved  him;  if  I  have  of- 
fended, I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  faintly. 

There  was  no  space  for  further  question- 
ing, and  the  good  priest  arose,  his  large  form 
presenting  a  fair  mark  to  the  foe ;  heedless 
of  danger,  he  stooped  and  filled  his  hand 
with  water  from  the  river,  and,  pouring  it 
upon  the  upraised  forehead  of  the  warrior, 
pronounced  the  holy  and  mystic  words  of 
the  sacrament  The  eye  of  the  dying  Indian 
again  lit  up — a  joyous  smile  passed  once 
more  across  his  features;  his  lips,  motion- 
less before,  opened,  and  faint,  indistinct 
words  of  prayer  escaped  them.  Then  a 
gushing  sound  was  heard ;  his  hand  moved 
wanderingly  towards  the  wound — the  blood 
was  bursting  from  it  in  a  dark  and  bubbling 
stream.  His  head  sank  upon  his  breast,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  "  regenerated  "  had  taken 
its  flight. 

"May  he  rest  in  peace,"  mentally  ejacu- 
lated Father  Jean  Laval  as  he  cast  his  eye 
once  more  upon  the  scene  around.    It  had 


/' 


48 


FERE  JEAN. 


1  ! 


now  become  terrific.  The  fragile  bark  was 
sinking  beneath  them ;  escape  by  the  river 
was  impossible ;  escape  by  the  shore  seemed 
already  doubtful.  The  brave  Hurons,  talsen 
at  disadvantage,  were  unable  to  display  their 
accustomed  valor.  At  a  signal  from  the 
chief,  two  warriors  sprang  from  the  canoe, 
and  thus  lightened  and  buoyed  up  the  sink- 
ing bark,  at  the  same  moment,  almost,  a  few 
strokes  sent  it  within  fording  of  the  land. 
Every  man  made  for  the  shore,  grasping  his 
rifle  in  his  left  hand,  while  his  right  bran- 
dished his  tomahawk.  Ahasistari  bounded 
to  the  beach.  Bidding  Father  Jean  Laval 
to  follow  him,  it  was  but  a  moment's  work 
to  reach  a  cover  in  the  woods.  He  was 
followed  by  a  number  of  his  braves,  and  ere 
the  last  canoe  had  touched  the  shore  the 
sharp  crack  of  the  Huron  carbines  was  heard 
on  the  flank  of  the  Iroquois.  As  suddenly 
the  firing  ceased.  The  Iroquois,  surprised 
by  the  unexpected  activity  of  the  Huron 
movement,  clung  close  to  their  coverts,  and 
for  a  time  a  fearful  and  unbroken  silence 
hung  upon  the  scene  of  death. 
Upon  the  shore,  by  the  side  of  a  dying 


m 


FERE  JEAN. 


w 


Indian,  knelt  Father  Jean  Laval.  The  cross 
of  Christ  was  in  his  hands,  and  the  eyes  of 
the  departing  rested  on  it.  "Words  of  holy 
comfort  flowed  from  his  lips;  the  solemn 
absolution  was  pronounced,  and,  annointed 
and  annealed,  the  spirit  of  the  Christian 
warrior  took  its  flight,  in  the  midst  of  the 
stern  silence  that  momentarily  reigne^ 
around  that  scene  of  strife,  to  regions  where 
neither  battle  nor  death  may  come.  As  the 
last  convulsive  throb  of  dying  agony  ceased, 
and  the  muscular  limbs  A  the  warrior  fell 
back  motionless  from  the  death  struggle, 
the  priest  arose  from  his  posture  by  the  side 
of  the  lifeless  body.  "  Have  mercy  on  him, 
oh  Lord  I "  he  said,  in  a  low,  sad  voice,  and 
turned  away  towards  the  forest. 


\  ! 


\,. 


60 


r£RE  JEAN. 


I   • 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE     CONFLICT. 


ILENCE.  and  darkness  on  tl;e 
scene!  Not  a  movement  in  the 
forest — not  a  ray  of  light,  save 
the  dim  grey  of  the  fur-ofT  sky — 
no  sound  but  the  half  hushed  moan  of 
jmin,  jarring  sadly  with  the  soft  music  of 
flowing  waters.  It  was  a  living  solitude. 
No  voices  were  heard  where  there  were  many 
ready  to  break  forth  in  fury;  and  where 
there  were  many  glowing  with  the  flame  of 
human  passion,  no  forms  were  seen  but  one. 
That  form  enclosed  a  gentle  spirit  • , 
The  Jesuit  strode  towards  the  forest. 
Gloom  was  upon  his  path,  but  an  invinci- 
ble tranquility  reigned  within  his  breast. 
Over  the  stillness,  more  startling  by  its 
sudden  contrast  with  the  wild  peal  of  battle 
which  had  ceased  so  suddenly,  came  now 
and  then  the  rustling  of  leaves,  as  the  am- 
bushed foes  fell  guardedly  back,  assuming 
new  positions,  and   manceuvring  with  the 


k> 


m    >       >  • 


I 

w 


;> 


if 


FERE   JEAN. 


61 


cautiousness  of  Indian  warwaro.  It  was  at 
tlje  mingling  of  night  and  morning,  and  the 
fading  stars  looked  sadly  down  their  parting, 
as  it  were,  into  the  soul  of  the  dark  r'ver. 

The  priest  pressed  on,  heedless  or  uncon- 
scious of  the  danger  that  lurked  within  th2 
forest.  He  gained  the  opsning  of  a  slight 
ravine — as  he  stepped  forward  an  obstacle 
caught  his  foot,  and  he  fell  to  the  earth. 
Putting  out  his  hand  to  raise  himself,  it 
rested  upon  a  cap—he  held  it  up  to  examine 
it — it  was  the  cap  of  Rene,  the  novice.  A 
shudder  passed  through  his  frame — there 
was  a  murmur  of  sor]:ow  and  prayer,  a  sink- 
ing of  the  heart — but  he  still  passed  on.  A 
few  feet  further  lay  a  wounded  Huron.  A 
low  sigh  escaped  the  lips  of  the  wairior,  and 
he  c  ideavored  to  turn  himself  upon  the 
ground,  but  in  vain.  The  Jesuit  bent  over 
the  Indian,  and,  in  a  low  whisper,  asked 
him :  "  Son^  hast  thou  been  baptized  ?  " 

"  No,  my  Father,"  he  said,  in  a  faint  and 
weak  voice.  "    ""      - 

The  place  they  occupied  at  the  bottom  of 
the  ravine  was  somewhat"  covered  from  the 
position  of  the  Iroquois.      There  was  yet 


<asr 


52 


PERE  JEAN. 


I  ' 


time  for  Father  Laval  to  seek  cover  in  the 
rear  of  his  Ilurons,  and  perhaps  escape 
would  have  been  possible ;  for  the  Iroquois 
were  now  busily  occupied  in  slowly  and 
cautiously  extending  their  forces  in  order 
to  outflank,  and  thus  drive  the  Christian 
warriors  from  their  covers.  So  guarded  had 
been  the  movements  of  both  parties,  and 
such  the  gloom,  that,  as  yet,  neither  Huron 
nor  Iroquois  had  gained  an  opportunity  of 
firing  with  any  certainty  of  aim,  and  both 
were  too  wary  to  throw  away  a  shot,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  discover  their  whole 
manceuvre  to  the  foe  by  the  flash  of  their 
firearms.  .      .    .  ^  .,,        v   -.-  ■ 

Father  Laval  arose  and  crept  lightly 
towards  the  river.  As  he  passed  by  a 
little  hillock  or  mound,  he  was  startled  by 
the  cracking  of  a  twig  and  a  low  hiss  like 
that  of  a  serpent.  Hesitating  a  moment, 
he  recollected  the  sound  he  had  heard  in 
the  canoe,  and,  reassured,  fixed  his  eye 
upon  the  spot  until  he  distinguished  a 
dark  object  moving  towards  him,  and 
slowly  erecting  its  head  from  the  ground 
as   it    approached.      In    a   moment   more 


I 


>  ■ 


V  '     -»■ 


■.:•-  r. 


5 


It 


'm 


PERE  JEAN. 


53 


[ 


\ 


l- 


Ahasistari  was  at  his  feet,  and  in  a  low 
voice  addressed  him! 

"Father,  hasten;  there  is  yet  time  to  fly! 
Follow  mel"  .  . 

"I  cannot,"  said  the  Jesuit;  "there  are 
souls  to  be  saved,  the  dying  to  be  baptized. 
Fly  you,  and  save  yourself  I"  '  -  ■ 

^"No.  Ahasistari  will  not  fly  without  his 
Father,"  said  the  Indian,  drawing  himself 
up  proudly  from  the  ground. 

"Go,  chief;  you  have  your  duties,  I  have 
mine;  the  brave  man  does  his  duty,  and 
leaves  the  rest  to  God.  Go  you  to  yours — 
leave  me  to  mine." 

"  You  will  not  follow  me  ?  " 

"I  dare  not,"  and  the  Jesuit  pointed 
back  to  the  spot  where  he  had  left  the 
wounded  Indian.  The  chieftain  turned  his 
eye  towards  it.  '        '  ' 

"It  is  not  far  from  the  end  of  their 
line.     You  will  do  your  duty.     Ahasistari 

will  do  his  by  your  side .    Hist!"  he 

said,  suddenly  interrupting  himself,  and 
raising  his  finger  to  demand  silence. 
Father  Laval  listened  intently,  and  dis- 
covered the  light  trampling  of  moccasined 


54 


PERE  JEAN. 


ii' 


feet;  then  the  low  cry  of  an  owl  struck 
upon  his  ear,  and  again  all  was  silent.     ,  ^ 

"They  are  gathering  for  a  charge,"  said 
the  chieftain.  "Ahasistari  must  be  there 
to  meet  them.  When  you  hear  the  war 
cry  of  the  Hurons,  know  that  your  chil- 
dren are  fighting  to  save  you.  Hasten 
along  down  the  shore  and  seek  a  hiding- 
place."  The  chief  stretched  himself  upon 
the  ground,  and  was  soon  lost  in  the 
obscurity  which  still  pervaded  the  scene. 

With  a  rapid  step  the  Jesuit  turned 
towards  the  river,  lifting  up  his  heart  to 
God  as  he  went  along  for  assistance  in 
this  trial.  To  fill  his  cap  with  water,  and 
retrace  his  steps  to  the  side  of  the  wounded 
Indian,  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment. 
The  eyes  of  the  warrior  fastened  upon  the 
cooling  liquid  that  oozed  from  the  cap; 
and,  with  a  supplicating  look,  he  laid  his 
finger  upon  his  parched  and  feverish  lip, 
and  uttered  the  single  word  "water." 
The  Jesuit  raised  his  head  upon  his  arm, 
and  applied  the  cooling  draught  to  the 
sufferer's  mouth.  A  grateful  expression 
passed  across  his  countenance,  and  Father 


■». 


J  ':,. 


'i 


\. 


PSBE  JEAN. 


55 


•    !■* 


\\ 


i 


;.| 


' 


•if 


!,!-■• 


Jean  laid  his  head  once  more  upon  the  turf; 
and,  haying  uttered  a  prayer,  stretched  forth 
his  hand,  about  to  pour  upon  his  head  the 
regenerating  waters  of  baptism.  At  that 
moment  a  heavy  grasp  was  laid  upon  his 
bared  head,  which  was  drawn  backwards 
till  his  uplifted  gaze  rested  upon  the  fierce 
countenance  of  an  Iroquois,  whose  right 
hand  brandished  above  him  a  scalping 
knife  already  dripping  with  blcod.  A 
fiendish  smile  played  upon  the  features  oi 
the  savage  as  he  paused  to  contemplate  his 
work.  There  was  time!  A  moment!  oh, 
inestimable  moment!  worlds  could  not  pur- 
chase thy  value.  There  was  time.  The 
baptismal  water  Javed  gently  the  brow  of 
the  dying,  and  the  words  of  the  Sacrament 

arose.     "0  God!  I  thank ^^  exclaimed 

the  Jesuit;  and  the  knife  of  the  savage 
began  to  descend.  A  single  sho^.  pealed 
suddenly  upon  the  silence.  ^.^  ^ 

Ahasistari,  the  fearless  chief  of  the 
Hurons,  had  crept  back  swiftly  to  the 
position  of  his  warriors,  and  prepared  to 
meet  the  expected  onslaught  of  the 
Mohawks.      "With    the    quick   and   ready 


66 


PERB  JEAN. 


skill  of  the  Indian,  he  determined  to 
entrap  the  foe  when  the  assault  shonld 
begin,  and  had  already  placed  himself, 
with  a  few  ».hosen  men,  stealthily  in 
auvance,  in  a  near  and  more  favorable 
position,  when  his  eye,  wandering  uneasily 
in  search  of  the  Jesuit,  rested  upon  the 
spot  where  he  had  left  him.  Dimly  it 
caught,  the  form  of  the  priest,  bent  back 
by  the  strong  grasp  of  the  savage  and  the 
uplifted  knife  suspended.  He  sprang  for- 
ward. To  fire  was  to  disclose  his  stratagem 
to  the  foe;  to  desist  would  be  death  to  the 
priest  He  sternly  swung  his  carabine  to 
rest — his  sinewy  hands  grasped  it  as  firmly 
as  if  the  muscles  had  been  steel.  Thus  it 
rested  for  a  moment  motionless;  then  came 
the  clicking  of  the  trigger  and  a  cloud  of 
smoke,  with  a  sheet  of  flame  from  the 
muzzle,  swept  over  his  still  form.  The 
blow  of  the  Iroquois  descended;  but  it  was 
the  harmless  tailing  of  the  lifeless  arm — 
the  bullet  of  the  Huron  had  passed  through 
his  heart.  He  fell  forward  heavily  upon  the 
priest. 
Out  broke  the  fierce  war  whoop  of  the 


V' 


-J     . 


I 


H  '."     -V  ' 


M 


M 


n 


1^    ' 


FEBE  JEAN. 


57 


Mohawks — shots  pealed  and  arrows  flew. 
Then  came  the  wild  rush,  the  trampling  of 
many  feet  bursting  through  the  forest  covers, 
and  the  clash  of  many  weapons.  Hand  to 
hand,  Mohawk  and  Huron  fought.  The 
occasional  flash  of  firearms  blazed  around, 
lighting  up  the  scene  with  its  lurid  rays, 
which  glanc3d  upon  the  plume  of  the 
warrior  as  he  sprang  forward  to  the 
charge,  and  sparkled  upon  his  uplifted 
weapons,  made  the  waving  forest  spray 
glow  as  if  touched  with  liquid  tire,  and 
dancing  madly  along  the  rippling  waters 
of  the  dark  river.  Over  the  wild  music  of 
battle,  which  man  in  his  strength  and 
passion  loves,  came  subdued  the  sorrowful 
moaning  of  the  wounded. 

A  few  rapid  bounds  brouglit  the  Huron 
chief  to  the  side  of  the  priest.  Raising  him 
up  gently,  he  said,  when  he  saw  him  re- 
covered from  the  effects  of  the  incident : 

"  Father,  go  now.  Far  down  the  bank  of 
the  river  you  will  find  the  undergrowth 
thick  and  heavy;  keep  by  the  edge  of  the 
water.  We  are  outnumbered;  our  only  hope 
is  in  flight.    The  Hurons  will  remain  while 


^, 


FERE   JEAN. 


you  remain.    When  }ou  have  fled,  we  also 
will  seek  safety." 

A  "  Then  I  must  go,*'  said  the  Jesuit,  and, 
gathering  up  around  him  the  long  black 
gown  which  he  wore,  he  preparer!  to  fly 
from  the  spot. 
,  .^       Ahasistari  stooped  down  and  grasped  the 
scalp  lock  of  his  foe,  and  was  about  to  pass 
his  knife  around  the  skin  to  tear  it  from  his 
hrad.    His  hand  was  arrested  by  the  priest. 
[\         "Do  not  violate  the  dead,  my  son."  '        • 
"  He  is  a  Mohawk,  my  Father/'  ^  ^ 

*•  He  is  a  man.  You  have  killed  him  in 
battle.  Do  not  mutilate  his  body.  It  is  not 
Christian." 

The  warrior  raised  himself  from  the  body 
of  his  foe,  and  reverently  made  the  sign  of 
the  cross  upon  his  forehead;  then,  pointing 
the  way  to  the  Jesuit,  bounded  back  to  his 
first  position  amid  d  shower  of  balls  and 
arrows  that  whistled  around  him  as  he 
emerged  from  the  ravine.  Looking  back, 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  form  of  the 
Jesuit  hurrying  down  the  path  he  had 
designated.  In  the  next  moment  the  Huron 
chief  was  in   the  thickest  of  the  conflict 


^■■. 


f: 


'X.  " 


<^ . 


PEiSE  JEAN. 


m 


li 


Gathering  new  spirit  from  tho  presence 
of  their  leader,  the  Ohristian  warriors  still 
made  good  their  position  against  the  foe; 
but  it  was  evident  that  the  struggle  could 
not  be  long  protracted.  Yet  each  moment 
gained  served  to  increase  the  distance 
between  the  Iroquois  and  their  Father  of 
the  black  gown.  At  length  the  thinned 
numbers  of  his  warriors  gave  notice  to  the 
chief  that  retreat  could  not  longer  be 
delayed.  At  the  signal  the  Hurons  sprang 
back  from  tree  to  tree,  securing  cover  as 
they  retired,  and,  battling  thus  each  foot  of 
ground,  they  made  the  advance  of  the 
Mohawks  slow  and  cautious. 

Ahasistari  approached  a  well-tried  war- 
rior and  whispered  a  command  in  his  ear. 
The  Indian  hurried  to  the  rear  and  turned 
towards  the  river.  A  moment  after,  a  little 
below  the  landing,  along  the  shore  where 
the  rippling  waves  broke  in  a  line  of  light 
upon  the  sands,  a  dark  fprm  seemed  to  rest 
for  a  moment  prostrate  npon  the  grass,  then 
with  a  quiet  mation  rolled  slowly  down  the 
slope  to  the  ri7er's  bank,  and,  without  a 
single    splash,    disappeared    beneath    the 


/' 


%i^^ 


\\ 


60 


PEBE  JEAN. 


water's  edge.  An  upturned  canoe  was 
floating  by  the  spot.  Imperceptibly  its 
motion  appeared  to  quicken,  and  when  it 
had  gained  some  distance  from  the  shore,  it 
was  suddenly  righted,  and  an  Indian  care- 
fully crept  over  the  side.  A  yell  broke  from 
the  forest,  proving  that  he  was  discovered, 
and  a  few  shots  whistled  around  him;  but 
seizing  a  paddle  which  had  been  fastened 
in  the  canoe,  he  whirled  it  in  defiance  at  the 
foe,  and  then  urged  his  bark  down  the  river. 

At  length  time  enough  had  elapsed  for 
Father  Laval  to  gather  a  sufficient  start, 
and  Ahasistari  and  his  Hurons  betook 
themselves  to  flight,  having  selected  the 
spot  opposite  their  last  bivouac  as  the  final 
place  of  rendezvous  for  thosa  who  might 
escape.  The  main  band  shaped  their  course 
somewhat  from  the  river,  while  Ahasistari, 
accompanied  by  a  single  warrior,  hastened 
to  the  spot  to  which  he  had  directed  the 
Jesuit  to  proceed.  ^    .   x^         ,  ^ 

Father  Laval  had  turned  away  from  the 
scene  of  strife,  and  was  hurrying  down  the 
shore  when  he  heard  the  groan  of  a  wounded 
Indian  whose  strensfth  had  failed  him  as  he 


^^ 


1 


I 


TEV.E  JEAN. 


CI 


crept  towards  the  river  bank.  He  paused. 
How  coull  he  fly?  How  leave  behind  him 
so  many  souls  to  whom  his  ministry  was 
necessary?  He  turned  from  his  path,  he 
knelt  by  the  side  of  the  Huron,  and  ho  left 
him  not  .till  the  shout  of  the  pursuers, 
driving  deeper  into  the  forest,  became  faint 
upon  his  car.  At  length  he  arose,  and, 
heedless  of  the  words  of  the  chief,  retraced 
his  steps  to  the  now  silent  scene  of  battle. 
Many  a  time  he  knelt  and  shrined  the  dying 
Christian  warrior,  or  baptized  the  departing 
neophyte,  and  uttered  words  of  hope  to  the 
wild  savage.  Kindly  and  gently,  and  with 
almost  a  warrior's  touch,  he  laved  the 
parched  lips  and  throbbing  brow  of  the 
wounded  and  soothed  their  pains.  Absorbed 
in  this  work  of  holy  love,  he  heard  not  the 
approaching  steps  of  a  form  that  soon  gained 
his  side. 

**  Oh,  my  Father,  I  came  to  seek  thy  body ; 
and,  joy,  I  find  thee  safe." 

"Ah,  Reno,  my  son!  heaven  bless  thee," 
said  the  Jesuit,  as  he  gazed  affectionately 
upon  the  youth.  "I  believed  thee  dead- 
see,  I  found  thy  cap  upon  the  field.  I 
mourned  for  thee,  my  son." 


.^4.'«l 


■*;ilr 


■^.^■■\ 


62 


PEUE  JEAN. 


"  Yes,  I  lo&t  it  in  my  rapid  flight,  TJie 
young  Indian  Watook  hurried  me  to  the 
shore,  and  led  me  to  the  rear.  There,  in 
safety,  I  watched  the  progress  of  the  fight, 
until  it  became  necessary  for  me  to  fly 
deeper  into  the  woods.  Making  a  detour 
as  the  foe  went  off  in  pursuit,  I  came 
hither  to  seek  thee."     ' 

"  It  is  well.  We  will  die  together,  com- 
forting each  other." 

"  If  it  be  the  will  of  Providence,  my 
Father."  And  the  Jesuit  and  the  novice 
betook  themselves  to  their  oflice  of  love. 

A  young  Iroquois  warrior,wounded  severely 
but  not  fatally,  had  fainted  from  loss  ol 
blood.  He  now  began  to  revive,  and  an 
involuntary  groan  broke  from  his  lips. 
Itene  Bourdoise  raised  his  head  from  the 
ground,  whilst  the  Jesuit  endeavored  to 
staunch  the  wound.  The  effusion  had 
been  great,  and,  if  it  continued  longer, 
would  prove  fatal.  No  mean  surgeon  "v^as 
Father  Jean,  and  he  worked  with  a 
charitable  he^rt.  Whilst  the  two  French- 
men were  thus  engaged,  the  loud  shouts  of 
the  returning  Mohawks  broke  upon  their 


^ 


TERE  JEAN. 


63 


cars.  The  savages  had  obaervcd  the  escape 
of  the  Huron  in  the  canoe,  and  fearing  that 
succor  might  be  near,  dared  not  protract  the 
pursuit  too  long.  Eedoubled  yells  of  joy 
came  forth  as  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
two  most  highly  prized  of  their  foes,  whose 
escape  they  had  feared.  Bounding  forward, 
two  warriors  were  about  to  grapple  with 
them.  They  came  with  uplifted  arms,  but 
the  Jesuits,  unmoved,  continued  to  perform 
their  charitable  labors.  Father  Jean  had 
just  succeeded  in  staunching  the  flow  of 
blood,  and  was  smoothing  down  the  band- 
age that  compressed  the  wound.  Eene 
Bourdoise  laved  the  brow  of  the  Iroquois. 
The  two  warriors  stood  still  astonished, 
and  then,  uttering  tho  deep,  low  guttural 
exclamation  peculiar  to  their  race,  their  only 
expression  of  surprise,  drfypped  their  arms, 
and,  turning,  gazed  on  one  another  in  un- 
mingled  wonder.  They  were  soon  joined  by 
their  companions,  who  gathered  near  by  this 
scene  so  new  to  them,  and  the  same  low 
exclamation  ran  around  the  group.  In  sooth 
it  was  an  unwonted  contrast — man  the  fiend, 
and  man  the  angel ;  the  warrior,  red  with 


: 

* 

1 

C4t                              FERE  JEAN.            *              ; 

1  ■./ '      11 

blood,  smoking  with  slaughter,  and  the  priest. 

calm  and  passionless,  breathing  peace  and 

charity  to  all  men,  binding  up  the  wounds 

.l 

of  hia  enemy.    Father  Jean  arose,  with  his 

arms  crossed  upon  hia  breast,  his  benign 

features  glowing  with  a  holy  enthusiasm. 

The  priest  and  the  savage  stood  face  to  face. 

1 

The  dark  flashing  orb  of  the  w...rior  slowly 

yielded  to  the  softening  influence  of  the  mild 

and  gentle  eye  of  the  Jesuit     Suddenly  ho 

turned  away  hia  glance,  and  approached  the 

wounded  man.    He  laid  his  hand  upon  his 

u 

brow,  as  if  to  discover  that  there  was  no 

deception.    Then  he  coldly  watched  the  face 

of  the  sufferer.    The  novice  still  supported 

his  head,  and  laved  his  brow  and  lips.     In 

a  moment  more  the  wounded  man  opened 

his  eyes,  and  a  faint  smile  played  across  his 

, 

features. 

"  Good,  Kiskepila,"  muttered  the  Mohawk 

chief,  and  turned  away. 

Father  Jean  had  now  time  to  look  about 

'  1 

him,  for  he    was    left   unmolested.      The 

Mohawks  had  made  several  prisoners  in  the 

pursuit,  whom,  six  in  number,  some  of  the 

conquerors    had   just    dragged   up,  bound 

■       ■,    :                     ■  -            ./'     -  /             '■,■"-'  ''"   -.       -:.■■■. 

, 

•V-:;;  -*..---__  ■■,^.,,;,  -,/--  ,     .  '    •  ;    ,. .  ;,.^^ -:;.^f,-:v '"  v- ■  ,_-.■ 

rii:i;E  jean. 


05 


.. 


I 


„ 


tightly  and  securely.  In  an  hour  moro  the 
last  straggling  pursuer  had  returned,  the 
dying  Hurons  had  been  scalped  and  toma- 
hawked, the  bodies  of  the  fallen  Iroquois 
buried,  and  the  conquerors  and  their  prison- 
ers, marching  in  single  file  anrd  with  a  party 
in  advance,  bearing  their  wounded  upon 
litters  made  of  boughs,  left  the  banks  of  the 
St.  Lawrence,  where  they  had  concealed 
their  canoes,  and  struck  off  de- p  intf  the 
forest  towards  the  Mohawk  Tillages. 


Hi 


i. 


•*. 


66 


PEKE  JEAN. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


\  I 


v\ 


/         THEMOEN". 

HE  sun  came  up  over  the  east- 
ern hills  brightly  and  beauti- 
fally,  not  a  cloud  across  his  path. 
His  first  slanting  beams  fell  upon 
the  form  of  a  tall  warrior,  stealing  his  way 
■down  the  banks  of  the  St  Lawrence ;  a  short 
-  distance  behind  came  another,  cautiously 
covering,  and  concealing  every  footstep  as 
he  passed,  while  to  the  south,  deep  in  the 
forest,  might  be  heard  the  sounds  of  conflict 
and  pursuit.  Rapidly  they  hurried  on,  yet 
^^  carefully,  until  at  length  the  underwood 
became  thick  and  heavy,  and  difficult  to 
penetrate,  and  the  ground  soft  and  swampy. 
Then,  emerging  from  the  wood,  they  kept 
along  by  the  edge  of  the  water,  searching 
closely  for  the  marks  of  footsteps  upon  the 
sand  or  clay.  The  examination  was  in  vain. 
For  a  moment  the  tall  warrior  looked  about 
in  doubt;  then,  renewing  the  scrutiny,  pro- 
ceeded down  the  river.    But  he  met  with  no 


■•■':> 


I 


I- 


iibmmhm 


i'.7 


•V  K 


i 


I 


i 


1 


■i'.-  ':' 


.  r 


'ft  ^^' 


1 


FESE  JEAN. 


67 


better  success.  An  imnsnal  expression  of 
pain  passed  across  his  features,  and,  resting 
the  butt  of  his  gun  upon  the  ground,  he 
leaned  upon  it  in  thought  His  'Iress  was 
torn  and  bloody,  and  the  marks  of  many 
wounds  were  upon  him.  The  sun  played 
brightly  across  the  face  of  Ahasistari,  but 
his  spirit  was  dark  and  sad.  He  had  found 
no  trace  of  Father  Laval.  His  solemn  tow 
was  in  his  memory. 

At  length  twice  he  whistled,  low,  but 
piercingly.  At  the  second  time  a  rustling 
was  heard  a  short  distance  down  the  bank 
where  the  bushes  oyerhung  the  water,  and 
lifting  carefully  aside  the  leafy  branches,  a 
Huron  appeared,  urging  his  canoe  from  his 
Liding-place.  A  few  strokes  sent  the  light 
bark  to  the  feet  of  Ahasistari,  and  the  rower 
stood  beside  him.  The  three  Indians  spoke 
together  for  a  moment,  and  then  sat  down 
silently  upon  the  shore.  A  slight  noise 
startled  them,  and  Ahasistari  exclaimed, 
"He  comes!"  In  a  moment  more  a  step 
was  heard  upon  the  sand,  and  Watook,  soiled 
and  stained  with  the  marks  of  battle,  stood 
before  them.    He  looked  Ahasistari  in  the 


.  I-  •   -     » 


-.rer: 


68 


FEBE  JEAN. 


face,  and  then  his  head  sank  down  upon  his 
breast  in  silence.    The  chief  addressed  him, 

"  Speak,  Huron  I "  *     M   .  '^^ 

Kaising  his  hand  towards  the  South,while 
his  eyes  glowed  like  burning  coals,  the 
young  bravo  exclaimed :  "  The  Hawk  carries 
off  the  doye;  the  Mohawks  lead  away  the 
Father  of  the  black  gown  and  the  young 
Frenchman  to  their  villages,  to  the  torture ; 
and  "Watook — "and  his  strained  arms  pressed 
tightly  against  his  bosom,  as  if  to  keep  down 
its  inward  struggle  —  "Watook  looked 
upon  it" 

Ahasistari  sat  motionless  foi  a  moment, 
then  looked  fixedly  at  the  young  Indian,  his 
eye  seeming  to  pierce  into  the  depths  of  his 
soul.  Not  a  muscle  moved;  not  a  nerve 
quivered ;  but  there  was  a  sorrowful  stern- 
ness in  his  glance.  Then  he  gazed  around 
upon  the  group  of  Hurons. 

"How  many  Iroquois?  The  days  are 
many  before  the  villages  can  be  reached; 
and  night  and  day — "  and  he  grasped  his 
knife  ex]^resjively.  A  deep  exclamation  of 
approval  broke  from  his  two  companions. 
Watook  replied  not,  but  pointed  to  the  sands 


/,   (1 


i,:X 


PERE  JEAN. 


69 


of  tho  shore,  and  then  to  the  leaves  of  the 
forest. 

"It  is  useless,"  said  the  chief,  and  sank 
again  into  silence.  At  length,  raising  him- 
self up  to  his  full  height,  he  said :  "  I  have 
sworn,  my  brothers  I  you  are  bound  by  no 
vow.  Go  I  the  waters  are  open  to  Quebec. 
Ahasistari  will  join  his  Father  of  the  black 
gown,  and  share  his  fate." 

The  Hurons  drew  back  from  the  shore  to 
the  side  of  their  chief,  and  stood  immovable. 
A  gleam  of  hope  broke  upon  the  mind  of 
the  leader,  and,  pointing  to  Watook,  hesaid: 
"  Go !  sweep  down  the  river  to  the  place  of 
gathering ;  bring  up  the  Avarriors  who  may 
have  escaped,  and  lead  them  upon  our  trail. 
We  will  rescue  our  people,  or  perish  with 
them." 

Watook's  heart  beat  high.  He  could  bring 
rescue  to  the  very  villages  of  the  Mohawlvs, 
and  save  the  novice  and  the  priest.  He 
stepped  lightly  into  the  oanoe,  and,  with  a 
few  strokes,  sent  it  far  into  the  current 
Then,  waving  his  hand  to  the  three  Hurons 
who  stood  silently  gazing  after  him,  he 
steered  his  course  directly  down  the  river. 


/       X 


70 


TEKE  JEAN. 


"Watook  hatli  a  bold  young  heart;  be 
will  lead  the  braves  of  the  Hurons  when  the 
arm  of  Ahasistari  is  cold,"  said  the  chief; 
and  the  three  devoted  warriors  turned  away 
upon  the  trail  of  the  enemy. 

The  Iroquois  marched  silently  on  through 
the  pathless  forest,  striking  directly  for  their 
villages,  guided  only  by  that  wonderful  in- 
stinct which  enables  an  Indian  to  toil  on, 
day  and  night,  over  hill  and  valley,  through 
forest,  and  thicket,  and  swamp,  a?  unerringly 
as  if  directed  by  the  compass.  The  prisoners 
were  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  line,  and  so 
guarded  that  escape  was  impossible.  The 
two  Frenchmen,  like  the  Hurons, were  bound 
tightly  with  thongs  of  deer  skin,  but,  in  the 
midst  of  their  sufferings,  they  enjoyed  the 
happy  privilege  of  being  together.        ','       - 

The  hour  of  noon  had  come ;  the  heat  was 
oppressive  even  in  the  shaded  forest,  and  the 
thick  black  dresses  of  the  Jesuit  and  the 
novice  increased  the  suflferings  of  their  pain- 
ful march.  At  length  the  party  paused  to 
refresh  themselves. 

"  Eenc,  my  son,"  said  Father  Laval,  "  let 
us  offer  up  the  last  part  of  the  Rosary.    It 


f' 


•ji. 


i 


>( 


PSRE  JEAN. 


71 


is  the  five  dolors.  The  recollections  :'  fc  con- 
tains will  console  us  in  our  sufferings.  In 
our  misfortunes  we  must  pray  to  God  to 
assist  us  with  His  heavenly  consoiations, 
and  to  enable  us  to  endure  them  with 
patience.  Let  us  offer  them  up  as  an 
atonement  through  the  blood  of  Christ  for 
our  past  offences." 

The  novice  acquiesced  in  silence,  and  the 
priest  began  the  prayers.  For  a  moment 
their  captors  did  not  heed  the  conversation 
of  the  prisoners.  Father  Laval  proceeded, 
and  Eene  Bourdoise  said  the  responses. 
Hitherto  the  captive  Hurons  had  main- 
tained a  stern  and  dogged  silence,  per- 
mitting no  sign  of  pain  to  escape  them,  and 
enduring,  passively  and  with  native  stoicism, 
all  the  insults  of  the  Mohawks.  ,*But  the 
sound  of  the  first  "Ave  Maria,"  in*the  clear 
voice  of  the  Jesuit,  came  like  sweet  music  to 
their  sullen  hearts,  softerihig  their  savage 
humor,  and  soothing  them  into  love  and 
prayer.  Gently  its  holy  influence  spread 
among  the  group  of  sufferers,  and  their  stern 
features  Icoame  first  sad,  then  calm  and 
placid,  until  the  light  x>f  religious  asp.ution 


\r  ^- 


»< 

'< 


\ 


'A 


72 


TERE   JEAN. 


oeamed  from  many  a  scarred  face  turned 
miMly  up  to  heaven.  The  respoiie^  ciimo 
low  and  broken  from  the  lips  of  thi-  yoimg 
novice,  .^welling  up,  like  a  sv^eeping  ware,  c^ 
one  by  one  the  deep  musical  torses  of  the 
captive  Huror.s  joinea  it.  *^^4?'e  Afariaf" 
it  came  like  the  thouarht  of  a  loving 
mother,  like  the  memory  jf  a  holy  love. 
Ave  Maria!  swelling  up  in  the  wild  io^.t 
iroin  captive  hearts,  from  parched  and  fever- 
is 'i  Hp,^  cfilmed  by  its  gentle  murmurs,  to 
the  rr^rdher  of  the  sorrowful,  the  mourning. 
Ave  /  like  dew  to  the  withered  flower,  was 
the  sweet  prayer  to  the  strickoi  soul,  and 
tears  came  down  the  swarthy  cheeks  of  the 
Christian  warriors. 

Amazed,  the  Mohawks  looked  upon  the 
scene;  then  they  laughed  aloud  con- 
temptuously at  the  faint-hearted  braves 
who  wept — we2}c  in  captivity. 

"Dogs!  women!'*  they  said,  "are  the 
Ilurons  no  warriors  ?  Shall  we  go  back  to 
their  tribes  to  carry  off  a  brave  to  torture  ? 
Ye  are  women;  our  squaws  will  beat  you 
with  whips !  Ye  are  not  worthy  of  a  war- 
rior's death." 


11 


^^W 


-■♦-*■ 


. 


, 


rr.KK  JEAN, 


73 


But  the  Christian  Hurons  prayed  on — 
Sancta  Maria! — their  full,  deep  voices 
piercing  np  to  heaven,  heedless  of  the  scorn 
and  taunts  and  blows  of  their  captors.  At 
length  a  Mohawk  approached  the  Jesuit 

"  Does  the  word  of  the  medicine  turn  the 
Huron  warriors  to  women  ?  He  is  a  magician 
— let  him  be  silent,"  and  he  struck  him  a 
blow  in  the  face  with  his  clenched  hand. 
The  blood  gushed  from  the  lips  of  the  priest, 
and  he  bowed  his  head  in  silence.     .     .     . 

In  the  forest  from  a  thicket  three  figures, 
crouching  low,  glared  fiercely  out  upon  the 
scene.  Over  the  dark  features  of  the  chief 
of  these  flashed  the  fire  of  anger.  His 
nostrils  were  dilated^  his  lips  parted,  his 
hand  grasped  his  carbine  convulsively. 
Then,  as  the  priest  bowed  meekly  to  the 
blow,  the  warrior  released  his  weapon  and 
pressed  his  hands  upon  his  brow,  as  if  to 
shut  out  the  scene.  A  low  sigh  escaped 
him,  and  he,  too,  knelt  and  prayed.  But 
for  the  meek  bearing  of  the  priest,  recall! ag 
the  duty  of  the  Christian  to  the  heart  of  the 
ch'ef,  there  surely  had  been  death  among 
the  conquerors  in  that  instant.    Ahasistari 


r. 


El  I 
PI 


,1 


p^'^^^^^ti 


J'h      -t^^es. 


74 


FERE   JEAN. 


• 


knelt  and  prayed.  The  time  for  action  had 
not  yet  come:  it  was  not  vengeance,  but 
deliverance,  that  he  sought  ^  ■ 

The  Jesuit  bowed  meekly  to  the  biow; 
then,  raising  his  eyes  up  to  heaven,  while 
his  arms  were  drawn  back  by  the  tight 
thong  around  his  wrists,  he  prayed  on  in 
silence.  In  silence  prayed  the  captives; 
but  the  still  incense  of  their  hearts  floated 
upwards  not  less  sweetly  to  the  throne  of 
God.  It  was  the  dedication  of  the  forests 
of  the  Iroquois  to  the  faith  of  Christ. 

The  Mohawks  soon  made  their  repast,  and 
snatched  a  fev  moments  of  repose.  The 
wretched  remains  of  their  dinner  were 
thrown  to  the  captives,  whose  hunger  was 
left  unse  ":isfied,  while,  from  the  tightness  of 
their  bands,  they  were  unable  to  enjoy  the 
momentary  rest  afforded  by  the  halt.  The 
line  of  march  was  soon  formed  again,  and 
the  Mohawks,  refreshed  by  their  repose, 
hurried  on  the  tired  captives  at  a  rapid 
pace,  urging  the  weary  and  the  lagging 
with  heavy  blows.  Many  hours  passed 
thus.    -  ',.ry-  \\   -,  -,,;. 

Rene  Bourdoise  was  faint  and  weary,  and 


f 


-  \ 


♦  •'■     '* 


v*> 


PERE  JEAN. 


75 


I 


.(?• 


t 


his  faltering  step  betokeued  that  without 
rest  his  strength  would  soon  give  out.  In 
that  case  a  certain  death  awaited  him,  for 
the  captors  would  not  pause  or  delay  when 
a  blow  of  the  tomahawk  could,  in  a  moment, 
relieve  them  of  their  trouble,    -r-i  '^i'--^. 

A  Mohawk  warrior,  perceiving  his  weari- 
ness, approached  him,  and  brandishing  his 
weapon  over  his  head  pointed  forward  to  the 
route  they  were  pursuing,  and  intimated  by 
a  significant  gesture  his  fate  in  case  he 
should  be  unable  to  keep  up  with  the  party. 
Tlius  incited,  the  young  novice  exerted  him- 
self anew,  and  ever  and  anon  his  tormentor, 
as  his  efforts  seemed  to  flag,  assumed  a 
threatening  popture,  or  struck  nim  with  a 
heavy  stick  which  he  had  picked  i  :  .a  the 
march,  or  pricked  him  forward  with  the 
point  of  his  knife.  The  folds  of  his  black 
robe  were  stiff  with  blood,  yet  the  fainting 
novice  toiled  on  patiently,  turning  up  his 
eyes  to  heaven  and  murmuring  a  gentle 
prayer  for  his  tormentors.  Father  Laval, 
stronger  and  more  accustomed  .j  fatigue, 
looked  in  helpless  agony  upon  the  suffering 
of  his  young  companion ;  he  cheered  him 


X  I 


f] 


t.  t: 


s 


76 


PEUE   JEAN. 


onward  with  words  of  hope,  and  then,  as  the 
cruelty  of  the  savage  increased,  he  consoled 
him  with  fhr  lofhts  of  holy  comfort.  .ge.u; 
,  **TV/\r  uo,  :ny  son.  Thou  art  the  soldier 
of  Jesus.  Thou  art  scourged — He  was 
scourged.  It  is  a  glorious  privilege  to  die 
in  His  service;  heaven,  is  the  reward  of  the 
happy  martyr." 

"Pray  for  me,  father,  pray  for  me.  Oh 
God  I  "  continued  the  young  novice,  looking 
sadly  up  to  heaven,  "Oh  God!  grant  me 
strength  to  endure  this  trial ;  grant  me  forti- 
tude!" :  ^      . 

The  road  became  more  difficult  and  the 
progress  more  painful.  A  powerful  Huron 
marched  near  the  delicate  young  F  onch- 
man ;  no  word  had  yet  escaped  his  lips.  At 
length  he  approached  the  sufferer,  and 
pressing   his    huge   shoulder  against  him, 

said:  '■■■         ■■■>-...:..,■  s    \>-,Hi':-f\:^c.t 

"Lean  on  me,  my  brother!"  ^' 
At  t'le  sarr  i  mom  it  Kiohba,  the  relent- 
less Mohawk,  again  pricked  the  bleeding 
novice  wHh  his  knife.  The  youth  started 
forward,  and  with  a  aeep  groan  Ml  to  the 
ground.    There  he  Lv  unable  to  rise.     The 


;  - 


t         1 


u 


I'EBE  JEAN. 


77 


Iroquois  grasped  his  tomahawk  with  a  savage 
exclamation,  and  raised  it  over  his  head  to 
strike  the  exhausted  captive.  It  was  a 
moment  of  agony.  The  tall  Huron  sprang 
forward  ;  with  a  mighty  effort  he  burst  the 
cords  that  bound  his  wrists,  and  rushed 
between  the  Iroquois  and  his  victim.  On 
liis  left  arm  he  caught  the  descending  blow, 
whioh  g vished  deep  into  his  brawny  muscles ; 
with  his  right  he  lifted  up  the  light'form  of 
the  novice,  and  folding  it  to  his  powerful 
chest,  while  the  pale  face  of  the  insensible 
youth  rested  gently  on  his  dark  red  shoulder, 
strode  sternly  forward  to  the  front  of  the 
group  of  captives.  Deep  exclamations  of 
satisfaction  escaped  the  Iroquois,  but  no 
one  attempted  to  interrupt  the  warrior,  for 
the  Indian  loves  a  bold  deed. 

"  He  is  brave,"  said  one ;  -Mio  is  worth v 
of  the  stake."     '      *     '^      ' 

'*  Yes,  he  is  a  warrior ;  he  shall  die  by  the 
torture ! '' 

The  Huron  stroJe  on  with  his  helpless 
burden,  as  tenderly  and  gently  guarding  it 
as  a  father  does  the  child  he  loves. 

"Le  Loup  will  bear  his  young  white 
brother,''  be  cxclaimeJ. 


'■■\^ 


7S 


PEUE   JEAN. 


Tears  flowed  down  the  checks  oi  the 
Jesuit,  and  he  raised  his  heart  to  heaven  in 
thankfulness  for  the  providential  rescue  of 
his  companion. 

At  the  same  instant  the  cry  of  a  hawk  was 
heard  in  the  forost,  repeated  thrice  clearly 
and  shrilly,  then  seeming  to  die  away  in  the 
distance.  A  gleam  of  joy  broke  out  on  the 
bronzed  faco  of  the  Huron,  and  with  a 
firmer  and  lighter  step  Lo  Loup  pressed 
onward.  He  knew  by  the  signal  that  his 
chief  was  upon  their  trail,  and  that  three  of 
his  tribe  were  near.  The  Iroquois  listened 
suspiciously  to  the  sound,  but  it  was  repeated 
no  more. 

The  sun  was  sinking  low  in  the  west. 
The  shades  of  the  hills  grew  out  lengthen- 
ing. On  the  bosom  of  the  river  the  red  light 
fell  in  streams,  sparking  from  the  summits 
of  the  little  waves.  Far  down  its  waters, 
m  my  a  weary  mile,  a  war  canoe,  urged  on 
by  a  single  Indian,  made  its  way.  Large 
drops  of  sweat  stood  upon  the  rower's  brow. 
A  moment  he  paused  and  gazed  upon  the 
setting  sun,  then,  shaking  his  clenched  hand 
towards  the  far  southwest,  bent  sternly  to' 
his  oar  once  more,  • 


I 


L^'  ' 


T 


'  (- 


1 1 


PEKE   JEAN. 


79 


'•( 


i'& 


t     iJ    • 


w 


I 


\-.-;. 


'^-  At  length  he  turned  the  bow  of  liis  canoe 

towards  the  shore;  he  reached  it,  and 
bounded  on  the  beach.  Then  drawing  his 
bark  upon  the  Eand,  he  stepped  into  the 
forest  with  his  tomahawk  in  his  hand,  and 
began  to  examine  tlie  trees  some  distance 
from  the  water,  and,  finding  no  marks  on 
them,  notched  several  in  a  peculiar  manner. 
As  he  went  further  in  a  figure  stepped  from 
behind  a  large  oak  which  had  hitherto  con- 
cealed him,  and  approaching  the  canoe 
inspected  it  carefully,  and  afterwards  bent 
over  the  footsteps  of  the  young  Indian.  The 
person  was  dressed  in  n  hunting  shirt 
gathered  dose  around  his  waist  by  a  leathern 
belt,  which  also  served  to  support  a  long 
curved  knife  and  a  small  steel  axe.  A  large 
powder  horn  and  a  ball  pouch  of  deer  skin 
were  slung  over  his  shoulder ;  his  feet  and 
legs  were  protected  by  moccasins  and  leg- 
gings of  untanned  skin,  and  his  equipments 
were  completed  by  a  small  black  hair  cap 
set  jauntily  on  his  head.  He  seemed  satis- 
fied with  the  result  of  his  examination,  and 
said  half  aloud  as  he  arose :  "  Huron  canoe 
— Huron  moccasin — no  Mohawk  thief — and 
now  Pierre  for  Mons.  le  sauvage." 


/\ 


f 


■SUF 


-V 


80 


FEUB   J£AN. 


Pierre  had.  emigrated  from  France  many 
years  before,  and  with  the  aid  of  his  son  had 
made  himself  useful  as  a  hunter  to  the 
smaller  outposts  of  the  French.  He  sup- 
plied them  wilh  game.  In  one  of  their  ex- 
cursions the  Mohawks  came  upon  them,  and 
after  a  long  chase  succeeded  in  killing  and 
scalping  the  young  man.  Henceforth  Pierre 
considered  the  Mohawks  as  his  deadliest 
enemies.  He  had  served  as  a  spy  under  the 
w  great  Champlain — a  man  dreaded  by  the 
Indians  of  every  tribe,  and  whose  name  had 
become  a  war-cry  to  the  French.  Pierre 
was  an  expert  woodsman,  and  an  indefatiga- 
ble Indian  fighter — well-known  and  loved 
by  the  Hurons,  who  gdye  him  the  sobriquet 
oi'TEspion  hardL"  ' 

The  Frenchman  laughed  as  he  entered  the 
forest  to  meet  the  Indian.  **IIo,  ho, 
Huron/'  he  shouted  as  he  strode  carelessly 
along.  Watook  heard  the  voice,  and  spring- 
ing to  a  tree  cast  his  rifle  into  rest ;  but  the 
dress  and  language  of  the  speaker  told  him 
it  was  a  friend,  and  he  came  leaping  towards 
hiui. 

"Ugh!  L'Espion  hardil  The  pale  face 
is  the  friend  of  the  Huron,"  he  said. 


(. 


* 


rr 


I 


.( 


i 


FEEE  JEAN. 


81 


«  Very  true,  savage,  very  true."  "  '•  ' 

"Has  the  Frenchman  found  any  Hurons 
here  ?"  and  he  waved  his  hand  around." 

"None  but  yourself,  Huron." 

Then  Watook  told  him  of  the  sad  mis-^ 
fortune  which  had  befallen  his  party,  and 
of  the  capture  of  the  two  Frenchmen,  and 
hx)w  he  had  come  thither  to  gather  the 
scattered  Hurons  and  attempt  a  rescue. 
Exclamations  of  anger  escaped  the  hunter 
as  he  listened  to  the  story,  and  his  manner 
became  more  grave. 

"  The  scalp  of  the  son  of  the  Daring  Scout 
hangs  ill  the  Mohawk  lodge.  Is  his  knife 
rusty  ?  Will  he  strike  the  trail  of  the  Iro- 
quois ?  "  said  the  Indian,  in  conclusion. 

Pierre  drew  the  weapon  from  his  belt  and 
ran  his  finger  across  its  glittering  blade— 
and  his  feeling  deepened  into  fury  ad  he  re- 
membered the  sad  day  in  which  his  son  had 
jierished. 

"  Huron,"  he  said  at  length  in  a  stern 
voice,  "Huron  I  'Daring  Scout 'will  strike 
the  Mohawk  in  his  village ;"  then  recovering 
his  wonted  equanimity,  continued :         ■•^'^"^'■ 

"  The  braves  probably  went  deep  into  the 


5>t 


I  V 


Wm:  PERE  JEAN. 

forest  before  they  struck  off  towards  the 
rendezvous — they  will  be  here  yet— for  the 
current  of  the  river  assisted  you  forward 
ahead  of  them;  it  is  rapid  now.  Let  us 
build  a  fire  and  pass  the  night  here.  No 
Mohawks  are  outlying  now;  for  the  party 
you  fell  in  with  must  have  been  a  strong  one, 
and  it  is  not  likely  that  there  is  another  out. 
When  the  Hurons  come  in  we  can  strike  oft 
through  the  forest  to  the  trail  of  your  chief." 

The  counsel  seemed  wise  to  the  Indian, 
and  they  prepared  to  bivouac  upon  the  spot. 
About  midnight  the  sound  of  a  footstep 
struck  upon  the  ear  of  the  Frenchman,  who 
kept  watch  sitting  at  the  foot  of  a  tree 
shaded  from  the  light  of  the  fire. 

"Qui  va  la,"  said  the  hunter,  who  still 
adhered  somewhat  to  his  old  military  habits, 
"Qui  va  la;"  but  the  figure  approached, 
and  the  next  moment  a  Huron  stalked  up  to 
the  fire.  Watook  awoke  and  greeted  his 
comrade. 

"  The  Hurons  are  scattered,  and  will  come 
in  slowly,  for  they  are  very  weary,"  said  the 
stranger.  He  made  no  other  allusion  to 
their  late  defeat. 


^'' 


i 


PERE   JEAIT.. 


83 


When  morning  dawned  four  or  five  war- 
riors had  collected,  and  the  impatient  AVatook 
proposed  to  set  out.  1  ^f.^r 

"  No,"  said  the  Huron  who  had  first  come 
in,  "  more  braveS  come — more  braves." 

"  They  are  already  two  days'  march  before 
us,'*  said  Watook ;  but  Pierre  coincided  with 
the  first.  By  the  hour  of  noon  about  fifteen 
warriors  had  assembled,  some  of  them 
wounded,  and  all  wearied.  Compelled  by 
stern  necessity,  that  night  they  passed  at  the 
place  of  rendezvous,  and  on  the  following 
morn  set  or  t  through  the  forest  to  strike  on 
the  trail  of  the  Iroquois. 

NigM  and  morn  came  and  went,  night 
and  morn  the  captors  and  their  captives 
toiled  on  through  the  pathless  forest.  Still 
on — on  went  the  weary  march ;  still  on  the 
rear  of  the  conquering  Mohawks  hovered 
t'lreo  dusky  forms — stern,  silent,  watchful. 


V 


V  .  J 


\ 


84 


FEBE  JEAN. 


CHAPTER  VI  I. 


THE  RETURN. 


ii;        •  *i 


ORNING  FLOWER,  why  art  thou 
sad?  The  young  eagle  of  his 
tribe  will  soon  return.  Kiskepila 
will  bring  back  t'ae  scalps  of 
Huron  warriors  at  his  girdle:  he  will  come 
back  adorned  with  eagle  feathers,  and  the 
women  of  his  tribe  will  sing  his  deeds. 
He  will  bring  home  many  spoils,  and  will 
take  the  budding  flower  of  morn  to  bloom 
in  his  own  lodge  I " 

"  No,  Dancing  Fawn,  the  warriors  of  the 
tribe  have  been  gone  many  days  on  the  war 
path.  Many  suns  have  set  since  the  ap- 
pointed hour  of  return  passed  by.  The 
voices  of  the  night  have  whispered  in  the  ear 
of  Morning  Flower.  Misfortrae  is  on  the 
path  of  the  hi  aves.  He  will  return  no  more." 
"  Drooping  Flower,"  said  the  other,  draw- 
ing up  haughtily,  "  is  not  the  blood  of  the 
conquering  Iroquois  in  thy  veins?  and  yet 


■^r'-- 


;• ',' 


r£i.£  J£AN. 


85 


r:        ' 


thou  trcmblest  because  the  braves  of  the 
tribe  outlie  upon  the  war  path  a  few  suns 
longer  than  the  appointed  time.  Thinkest 
thou  that  the  Huron  dogs  could  withstand 
the  invincible  Mohawk?  The  Hurons  are 
cowards;  they  have  forsaken  Owaneego  for 
the  God  of  the  pale  face,  and  Owaneego  has 
chilled  their  hearts,  and  turned  their  blood 
to  water.  The  Hurons  are  dogs!"  and  the 
speaker  tossed  her  hand  contemptuously 
towards  the  Huron  country.     ^ 

She  was  a  noble  looking  Indian  girl. 
Her  black  eyes  sparkled  as  she  spoke,  and  the 
heightened  color  of  her  cheek  betrayed  the 
quick  passion  of  the  untrained  child  of 
nature.  The  other  was  of  gentle  mood ;  her 
full  and  liquid  eye  looked  out  softly  from 
beneath  the  long  and  sweeping  lash  that 
shaded  its  light.  Her  hair  was  jetty  1  lack, 
and,  though  straight,  was  finer  and  softer 
than  usual  in  the  Indian  race:  it  was  braided 
in  glossy  folds  around  her  temples,  and 
gathered  in  a  loop  behind,  bound  up  with 
bands  of  bright  colored  bark  interwoven 
with  beads.  Her  dress  was  a  mantle  curi- 
ously wrought  with  gaily  colored  feathers^ 


'A- 


V; 


'•■A. 


86 


TERE   JEAN. 


f 


1 


,«,.^v.n'       "■■■-J 


and  trimmed  with  tufts  of  elk  hair  dyed  red, 
thrown  gracefully  around  her  form,  leaving 
her  left  arm  and  shoulder  bare.  Her  limbs 
were  finely  moulded. 

Below  the  maidens  stretched  a  scene  of 
great  beauty.  From  two  hills,  covered  with 
heavy  forest  trees,  an  open  sward  sloped 
gradually  till  they  blended  into  a  little  plain 
traversed  by  a  small  stream,  on  whose  banks 
a  group  of  children  were  playing  busily — 
now  plunging  into  the  shallow  waters,  and 
now  sunning  themselves  upon  the  soft  and 
luxuriant  grass  that  bordered  it.  On  the 
northern  side,  where  the  descent  faced  full 
towards  the  south,  was  ranged  a  number  of 
Indian  wigwams,  in  the  center  of  which 
stood  the  council  lodge,  rising  conspicuous 
above  the  rest  of  the  village.  Before  the 
doors  of  some  of  the  cabins  groups  of  old 
men  and  children  were  gathered,  while  the 
squaws  w^ere  passing  to  and  fro,  engaged  in 
their  domestic  labors.  At  the  edge  of  the 
forest  a  number  of  youths  were  practicing 
with  the  bow  and  arrow.  The  western  por- 
tion of  the  slope  was  filled  with  young  corn, 
green  and  luxuriant  in  its  growth,  with  its 


i-.     i 


■\::\/  . 


TEEE   JEAN. 


87 


white  tassels  and  ears  already  blooming  out. 
On  the  eouthern  bank  of  the  stream  swept 
upwards  a  gentle  ascent  of  beautiful  green 
sward,  gaily  interspersed  with  the  gloriously 
tinted  wild  flowers  that  adorn  the  fields  of 
America.  Around  this  little  valley,  like  a 
palisade,  stood  the  edge  of  the  forest,  its  in- 
terminable depths  stretching  far  away 
towards  the  horizon,  until,  like  the  green 
waters  of  a  vast  ocean,  its  waving  foliage 
seemed  to  mingle  with  the  distant  sky. 

The  two  Indian  maidens  reclined  upon 
the  soft  turf  at  the  edge  of  the  forest  above 
the  village,  and  for  a  few  moments  gazed 
down  in  silence  upon  the  valley.  The  thick 
foliage  of  a  massive  oak  overhung  them,  and 
shaded  them  from  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun. 

"  Dancing  Fawn,"  at  length  resumed  the 
young  girl,  "  the  French  warriors  are  terrible 
in  battle,  riding  fierce  horses,  and  with  their 
breasts  clad  in  steel ;  perchance  the  braves 
have  fallen  in  with  them  and  been  cut  off." 

"  False  Mohawk  girl,  have  not  the  bruves 
of  our  nation  met  the  French  in  battle? 
Their  war  cry  is  like  the  roar  of  Unghiara* 

*  Niagara, 


r 


^^■?" 


V'i 


83 


FEBE   JEAN. 


f  • 


— the  Huron  and  the  pale  faces  tremble  at 
its  sound.  But  listen,  Morning  Flower! 
heard  you  that  faint  shout  I  See,  it  has 
aroused  the  village  I " 

The  young  maidens  arose  from  their  re- 
cumbent position,  and  awaited  in  expecta- 
tion the  event.  The  village  below  them  now 
exhibited  a  different  and  more  lively  aspect 
The  youths  had  quitted  their  pastim*^  and 
gathered  around  the  council  lodge,  where 
the  old  men  of  the  tribe  had  assembled. 
The  women  had  left  their  occupations,  and 
were  clamorously  joining  the  group.  At 
length  another  yell  broke  from  the  forest  far 
to  the  west,  and  came  faintly  swelling  to  the 
expectant  crowd.  In  a  few  moments  more 
a  runner  emerged  from  the  forest,  and,  look- 
ing down  the  hill,  hurried  on  towards  the 
village.  As  he  approached  the  assemblage 
opened  to  receive  him,  and  he  paused  in 
silence  before  the  chief,  who  was  surrounded 
by  a  group  of  venerable  warriors.  Kiodego 
motioned  him  to  speak. 

"  The  braves  of  the  Mohawks,"  said  the 
runner,  **are  mighty  warriors;  their  arms 
are  strong,  and  the  Ilurons  are  dogs.    The 


i 


\': 


-  .» 


'^      ■' 


i 


TERE  JEAN. 


89 


French  b:,  ;ome  women  before  the  battle-axes 
0^  the  Mohawks.  The  warriors  bring  bpck 
scalps  and  many  prisoners;  they  have  cap- 
tured the  great  medicine  of  the  French ;  they 
have  routed  and  slain  many  Hurons."  Then 
he  recounted  the  names  of  the  wounded — 
for  of  the  dead  the  Indian  speaks  not.  As 
he  mentioned  the  name  of  Kiskepila,  the  son 
of  the  old  chief,  a  deep  sigh  broke  from  the 
lips  of  Morning  Flower,  and  her  head 
sank  for  a  moment  upon  her  breast.  Then 
she  raised  it  up  proudly,  and  fierce  deter- 
mination lit  up  her  beautiful  features. 
Gloom  had  passed  tkway,  Kiodego  sat  un- 
moved, evincing  no  concern  for  the  misfor- 
tune of  his  son.  As  the  runner  finished  his 
recital  a  shout  broke  from  the  assemblage, 
which  was  answered  from  the  forest  by  a 
succession  of  yells,  whose  increasing  tone 
marked  the  near  approach  of  the  conquerors 
— it  was  the  scalp  whoop.  Then  came 
another  succession  of  veils,  one  for  each 
prisoner.  At  this  signal  the  crowd  around 
the  council  lodge  dispersed  to  the  different 
wigwams,  but  soon  reassembled,  everyone 
armed  with  weapons  of  some  kind — knives, 


[ 


\  I 


90 


TERE   JEAN. 


tomaliav.  jr.,  stcnca  and  war  clubs.  As  soon 
as  the  runner  appeared  Morning  Piv  ;er  and 
her  companion  had  descended  and  mingled 
with  the  group  before  the  lodge,  and  now, 
armed  like  the  other  women  of  the  tribe,  they 
hurried  off  towards  the  edge  of  the  forest. 
It  would  have  been  diflScult  to  recognize  the 
sorrowing,  lone,  lorn  Indian  maiden  with 
the  drooping  glance  in  the  excited  form  that 
wound  amid  the  group  urging  on  her  sister 
furies  to  greater  frenzy.     :      ;> 

"  The  Gentle  Flower,"  she  said  to  Danc- 
ing Fawn,  "  is  a  Mohawk  maiden ;  a  thorn 
has  pierced  throngh  her  moccasin  and 
wounded  her  foot.  She  will  pluck  it  out, 
and  with  it  tear  the  flesh  of  the  Frenchman. 
Th;  Morning  Flower  will  avenge  the  wound 
of  Kiskepila!" 

The  inhabitants  of  the  village  had  ar- 
ranged themselves  in  two  lines  on  the  open 
space  south  of  the  little  rivulet,  for  by  that 
side  the  war  party,  having  made  a  detour  in 
the  forest,  were  to  enter  on  the  valley.  Thus 
the  lines  ran  from  the  southwest  up  towards 
the  village.  Old  women  with  staves,  young, 
gentle  maidens  with  heavy  clubs,  youths 


Mr 


W 


k 


x---^ 


'Vv 


1 


■'f  I 


"-^^ 


I 


PEEE   JEAN. 


91 


tiiict;  at  lei  "*^ 
nues  of  the  -- 
appeared  in  vie\ 


with  knives  and  tomahawks,  and  even  the 
little  naked  children  with  sharp  stones,  stood 
waiting  with  savag'  exultation  for  the 
coming  of  the  pritf oners. 

The  tiirm^'  '>nt  r  ngs  of  the  returning 
warriors  bocsuh         iry  moment  more  dis- 

r  '"'f^  vn  the  shaded  ave- 
the  front  of  the  body 
A  cry  of  wild  joy  broke 
from  the  expectant  savages,  and  the  two 
lines  waved  and  undulated  along  their  whole 
length  as  each  person  endeavored  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  triumphant  braves.  On  they 
came! — the  warrior  stepping  more  firmly, 
and  erecting  his  head  more  proudly,  as  he 
beheld  the  old  men  of  his  village  at  the 
council  lodge  in  the  distance,  and,  nearer, 
the  women  and  the  children  who  would  sing 
his  gallant  deeds,  and  the  youths  who  would 
learn  to  emulate  his  fame.  On  they  came, 
swinging  high  the  scalps  they  had  taken, 
the  bloody  trophies  of  their  victory,  and 
chanting  the  story  of  their  actions.  At 
length  they  emerged  from  the  forest,  and 
stood  in  the  bright  sun  upon  the  beautiful 
green  slope  of  verdure.    The  prisoners  were 


^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


■ii  lU    12.2 
£   IS    112.0 


U    111.6 


^ 


v2 


/A 


'/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STRfiET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)872-4503 


^v 


92 


FEBE  JEAN. 


grouped  together;  their  captors  now  singled 
them  out,  preparing  them  to  start  upon  the 
fearful  trial  which  awaited  them.  Father 
Laval  was  pale  and  jaded;  his  face  was 
scarred  and  bruised,  and  the  clotted  blood 
still  disfigured  his  wounded  features;  his 
hands  were  yet  bound  behind  him.  A  Mo- 
hawk approached  to  sever  the  cord ;  the 
fiesh  had  so  swollen  around  the  tight  band 
as  almost  to  conceal  it,  and  the  knife  of  the 
savage  gashed  the  hands  of  the  priest.  Re- 
leased from  their  confinement,  his  arms  fell 
heavily  to  his  side,  inanimate,  and  refusing 
to  obey  the  stifif  and  swollen  muscles.  The 
blood  began  to  creep  slowly  in  the  veins,  and 
the  sensation  of  numbness  was  succeeded  by 
one  of  acute  pain.  The  Indian  then  loosed 
the  band  which  confined  the  black  robe  of 
the  Jesuit  around  his  body.  His  outer  gar- 
ment was  next  taken  ofl',  and  Father  Laval 
stood  half  unrobed;  his  shirt  was  stained 
with  blood,  and  his  naked  feet  and  legs  were 
torn  and  bleeding,  and  festering  with  thorns 
and  briars;  every  step  left  its  mark  in  blood. 
The  work  of  the  Indian  was  soon  done, 
and  the  captives  were  prepared  to  run  tke 


# 


^ 


'■ 


1 


fl 


tl. 


TEBE  JEAN. 


93 


4^ 


gauntlet  The  tender  frame  of  the  young 
novice,  with  the  red  blood  incrusted  upon 
his  delicate  skin,  and  his  limbs  bruised  and 
swollen  and  almost  helpless,  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  massive  proportions  of 
LoLonp,  who  still  kept  close  bes'.de  him, 
ready  to  aid  him  in  his  need.  Strong  and 
seemingly  unwearied,  the  Huron  stood  up 
like  a  mighty  statue  of  bronze,  heedless  of 
the  many  wounds  upon  his  limbs  and  breast 
**  My  father ! "  he  said  to  the  Jesuit,  as  they 
neared  each  other  for  a  moment,  "my  father, 
when  Le  Loup  springs  forward  between  the 
lines,  hasten  on,  and  seek  to  avoid  the  blows 
of  the  Iroquois !  Make  for  the  war  post  by 
the  council  lodge— gain  it,  and  you  are 
safe!" 

Rene  Bourdoise  turned  towards  the  spot 
indicated  by  Le  Loup  to  the  Jesuit,  and  his 
heart  shrank  Tvithin  him.  A  hundred  yell- 
ing furies,  with  clubs  and  knives,  were 
between  them  and  the  place  of  refuge,  and 
his  limbs  were  fu'nt  and  weary.  lie  raised 
his  soul  to  God. 

"Fear  not,  brother,"  said  Lo  Loup,  "but 
gather  up  all  thy  strength.'' 


u 


"H 


PERE  JEAN. 


VI 


"I  will  trust  in  God,"  replied  the  noTice, 
sadly. 
^ "  At  length  the  word  was  given :  "  Jog- 
go!"^"  go!'' — and  the  prisoners  started. 
The  powerful  Huron  broke  away  at  a  swing- 
ing trot,  which  puzzled  Father  Laval  to 
equal.  Le  Loup  made  for  the  opening  ot 
the  lines :  a  hundred  arms  were  uplifted  to 

I  \  strike — knives  glistened,  and  the  whole  gang 
of  furies  yelled  with  a  savage  delight — the 
strong  runner  paused  for  a  moment  till  the 
Jesuit  was  close  behind  him,  then  bounding 
forward  he  dashed  fiercely  into  the  midst  of 

r  the  crowd,  easting  aside  their  blows  and 
overturning  many  in  his  path.  Yet  he  did 
not  pass  scatheless,  and  <^^'e  he  had  gone  half 
the  distance,  the  blood  j  streaming  from 
his  wounded  body.  The  whole  rage  of  the 
whippers  was  in  a  moment  turned  upon  him, 
for  he  had  succeeded  in  baffling  many  of 
them,  and  they  were  pursuing  him  regard- 
less of  the  rest,  and  permitting  the  two 
Frenchmen  to  escape  with  little  sufiering. 
But  there  was  one  whose  passion  was  not  to 
be  led  off.  Morning  Flower  scorned  to 
wreak  her  vengeance  upon  the  Uuron,  for, 


. 


^1 


i 


i 


"1 


PERE  JEAN. 


95 


. 


she  conceived  that  none  but  the  Frenchman 
could  have  stricken  down  the  Young  Eagle. 
Her  eye  was  turned  upon  the  Jesuit,  whom 
she  saw  passing  almost  unarmed  in  the  rear 
of  the  powerful  warrior.  At  length  Father 
Laval  came  near  her,  hastening  forward  at 
as  great  speed  as  his  swollen  and  stiffened 
limbs  Would  permit  She  held  a  heavy  stick 
in  her  hand — her  arm  was  upraised— the 
Jesuit  cast  an  imploring  look  upon  her,  but 
the  heart  of  the  girl  was  steeled  to  pity ;  her 
savage  natrye  was  unyielding,  and  she  struck 
him  a  heavy  blow.  He  staggered  forward, 
about  to  fall;  at  the  next  moment  he  was 
raised  and  hurried  forward  by  the  arm  of 
one  of  his  Huron  neophytes.  Blinded  and 
stunned  by  the  shower  of  blows  which  fell 
upon  him,  he  did  not  recover  complete  con- 
scousnesa  until  he  stood  safe  from  lurlher 
harm  at  the  war-post.  A  wild  spectacle  met 
his  eye  as  he  gazed  over  the  field  through 
which  he  had  just  passed.  The  tall  Huron, 
lie  Loup,  heedless  of  blows  and  wounds,  was 
still  struggling  through  the  savage  throng, 
carrying  the  main  body  of  the  whippers  after 
him  and  around  him.    Ever  as  he  turned 


(  ' 


96 


PERE  JEAN. 


and  doubled,  a  portion  of  his  tormentors 
would  start  before  him  to  cut  off  his  escape ; 
then,  like  the  hunted  wolf,  he  would  burst 
upon  them  with  all  his  strength  and  break 
through  them,  only  to  find  another  body 
ready  to  receive  him.  A  group  of  old 
squaws,  armed  like  fiends  with  the  worst 
weapons  they  could  obtain— pointed  and 
jagged  stones,  sharpened  sticks  and  knives — 
attempted  to  stop  his  course.  He  dashed 
into  the  midst  of  them,  striking  the  first  to 
the  earth  before  she  could  aim  a  blow ;  yell- 
ing horribly  as  she  fell,  she  clasped  the  war- 
rior's feet  and  tripped  him  up.  With  his 
outstretched  arms  he  grasped  several  of  his 
persecutors,  and  they  came  to  the  ground 
together:  his  pursuers,  close  at  his  heels, 
fell  over  them,  and  the  living  pile  struggled 
together  in  inextricable  confusion,  striking 
and  beating  each  other  indiscriminately.  A 
shout  of  laughter  broke  from  the  Mohawk 
warriors,  who  watched  the  scene  with  in- 
terest. Winding  out  from  ths  living  mass 
that  was  piled  up  above  him,  the  Huron 
sprang  again  to  his  feet  and  started  off,  de- 
livered from  more  than  half  his  pursuers. 


L 


^^ 


«t  'l\- 


"•^I 


I  '. 


FERE  JEAN. 


97 


who  still  lay  struggling  together — the  upper 
ones  believing  that  their  victim  was  still  in 
their  power,  while  the  efforts  made  by  those 
underneath  to  arise  made  the  confusion  still 
more  dire.    The  Huron  was  speeding  on. 

Half  way  to  the  post  tottered  on  the  poor 
novice,  Rene  Bourdoise,  his  young  limbs  stift 
and  fainting.  Ah  I  little  did  he  think,  when 
he  quitted  the  shores  of  beautiful  and  gentle 
France,  of  the  wild  scenes  of  suffering  and 
torture  he  was  to  endure  for  the  sake  of 
Christ  in  the  dreary  wilderness  of  the  west. 
The  companions  of  his  early  days  were  wan- 
dering through  the  bright  valleys  of  his 
native  land ;  songs  of  joy  were  upen  their 
lips,  glad  music  ringing  in  their  ears,  loving 
hearts  and  tender  hands  around  them.  In 
his  ear  rang  the  yell  of  the  wild  Mohawk, 
and  the  hand  of  the  pitiless  savage  was  upon 
him.  Then  he  called  to  mind  his  solemn 
vocation,  and  devoting  himself  to  suffering 
clasped  his  hands  towards  heaven,  and 
struggled  on. 

"  Grant  me  strength  to  bear  my  cross,  Ob, 
God  I  '*  he  said. 

The  novice  kad  already  reached  the  stream: 


98 


r£R£  JEAN. 


he  had  received  little  else  but  passing  blows, 
for  the  strong  Hurons  afforded  better  game 
to  these  human  hunters.  The  younger  and 
the  weaker,  who  feared  to  grapple  with  the 
stout  warriors,  alone  pursued  him.  But 
now  a  party  rushed  towards  him,  and  in  an 
instant  the  fainting  youth  sank  beneath 
their  blows.  It  was  at  the  moment  that  Le 
Loup  approached  the  creek.  His  eye  rested 
upon  the  novice  as  he  fell  among  his  tor- 
mentors, and  he  dashed  through  their  midst, 
drawing  them  after  him  in  the  race.  Rene 
Bourdoise  arose — the  Indians  were  already 
in  another  portion  of  the  field,  and  he  passed 
the  stream,  and,  painfully  toiling  up  the 
hill,  touched  the  war-post.  At  length  the 
chase  began  to  flag,  and  Le  Loup,  having 
succeeded  in  doubling  on  his  pursuers, 
leaped  up  the  hill  to  the  goal.  The  last 
Huron  soon  came  in.  . -., 

The  overthrown  squaws,  bruised  and 
beatien,  gathered  round  the  group  of  cap- 
tives, and  with  loud  imprecations  menaced 
the  cause  of  their  misfortunes  with  the  ven- 
geance of  the  tribe. 

"  Ah ! "  said  one,  "  wait,  when  the  Huron 


S' 


:'•  >■ 


i^ 


■t  ;'« 


.^'  . 


PERE  JEAN. 


09 


I 


:;».. '. 


I 


i3  bound  to  the  post  and  tho  flames  are 
kindled  around  him,  we  will"  torture  the  dog 
till  he  screams  with  pain."  '• 

"  Yes,  the  Mohawk  women  will  make  tho 
Huron  warrior  yell  with  the  torment,"  and 
the  fiends  shouted  in  anticipation  of  the 
sacrifice.  Le  Loup  looked  calmly  on  and 
smiled. 

The  prisoners  were  again  bound,  and,  the 
ceremonies  attendant  upon  the  return  of  the 
war  party  having  been  gone  through,  were 
placed  under  a  guard  in  the  council  lodge, 
while  the  warriors  dispersed  through  the  vil- 
lage, each  with  his  band  of  friends  and  ad- 
mirers. A  portion  of  the  war  party  belonged 
to  another  village;  these  were  entertained 
with  dances  and  feasting  until  towards  even- 
ing, when  they  took  their  departure  for  their 
own  homes,  conir;  ry  to  their  usual  custom, 
leaving  the  prisoners  at  the  first  village,  to 
be  disposed  of  by  a  joint  council  at  some 
future  day. 


WllOTHtCA 


100 


TERE  JEAN. 


u 


CHAPTER  Vlir. 


THE     PRISONERS. 


forest  to   the   north   of  the 
Tillage   was   filled   with    under- 


growth, and  was  wild  and  rocky, 
rising  at  times  into  hills  of  consid- 
erable size,  which  swept  gradually  down  until 
they  melted  in  the  gentle  ascent  upon  which 
the  Mohawk  village  stood.  Towards  the 
close  of  the  day,  which  had  been  signalized 
by  the  return  of  the  war  party,  a  solitary  In- 
dian cautiously  made  his  way  through  the 
thick  bushes,  replacing  every  leaf  and 
branch  in  its  position,  and  covering  each 
footstep  as  he  passed.  His  course  was 
turned  in  the  direction  of  the  wildest  of  the 
hills.  As  he  proceeded,  the  ground  became 
more  broken  and  rocky  until  a  huge  ledge 
rose  abruptly  in  the  forest,  jutting  almost 
over  the  fiummits  of  the  oaks.  At  the  foot 
of  the  cliflF  he  paused  for  a  moment,  and  sur- 
veyed the  face  and  summit  of  the  rock.  He 
seemed  satisfied,  and  moved  along  the  base 


i. 


" 


,. 


^A- 


■■V' 


FERE  JEAN. 


101 


•■). 


\ 


1 


(  - 


of  the  ledge  until  he  reached  a  part  that  was 
less  precipitous,  and  was  covered  with 
bushes  and  creepers  growing  out  of  the 
many  crevices  and  spots  of  eairth  upon  its 
sides.  Here  he  paused  for  a  moment,  and, 
having  made  a  low  signal,  which  was  an- 
swered from  above,  began  to  ascend.  A  lit- 
tle distance  from  the  summit,  the  rock  re- 
ceded until  it  opened  into  something  like  a 
cave,  which  was  completely  hidden  from  be- 
low by  the  bushes  and  wild  vines  in  bloom, 
which  here  clustered  thick  upon  the  side  of 
the  ascent.  At  the  further  end  of  the  recess 
sat  two  figures,  silent  and  motionless ;  their 
rifles*  were  lying  near  them.  The  Indian 
entered  and  took  his  seat  by  his  compan- 
ions; at  length  he  spoke,  pointing  with  his 
hand  over  his  shoulder  towards  the  village. 
■~  "  The  Hurons  and  the  blackgown  are  in 
the  council  lodge.  No  more  gauntlet;  the 
warriors  from  the  other  village  have  gone," 
he  said,  and  held  up   the  fingers  of  both 

♦This  term  has  been  used  throughout  this  story;  per- 
haps musket  would  have  been  more  correct,  though  at 
the  date  of  the  story  few  Indians  were  possessed  of  fire- 
arms at  all  The  Mohawks  obtained  them  at  an  earlier 
period,  havln?  been  supplied  by  the  Dutch  traders. 


-,   \ 


102 


PEEE  JEAN. 


hands  twice  to  indicate  their  nnmber.  "So 
many  braves  at  the  village,"  and  he  again 
held  up  his  fingers  till  they  indicated  forty; 
"must  wait"  The  Hurons  assented,  and 
Ahasistari  continued:  "The  blackgown  is 
weak  and  bruised ;  many  days  must  pass  bo- 
fore  he  can  travel  again  to  the  river.  The 
Hurons  must  wait  till  they  can  go  faster 
than  the  Mohawk,  or  they  will  gather  from 
the  tribes  and  follow  on  the  trail." 

At  length  one  of  the  Hurons  spoke: 
"Watook  may  collect  the  braves,  and  be 
here  in  another  sun."   1 

"  Quickfoot)"  said  Ahasistari,  "  it  is  better 
that  he  should  lie  out  with  the  warriors 
some  distance  ia  the  forest.  There  is  a 
little  stream,  a  day's  journey  from  the  vil- 
lage of  the  Mohawks ;  we  crossed  it  on  the 
trail.  Let  him  hide  upon  its  banks.  If  he 
come  nearer,  a  wandering  Mohawk  might 
strike  upon  his  trail,  and  then  all  hope  will 
be  lost.  We  cannot  attempt  a  rescue  until 
the  blackgowns  are  strong  enough  to  jour- 
ney with  us.  Watook  and  his  braves  will 
follow  the  trail  of  the  Mohawks ;  Quickfoot 
must  retrace  it,  and  meet  him.    He  will  bid 


.'^ti 


I; 


V     ♦ 

* 


*  I 


.»■> 


\  t 


\ 


l-l 


FERE   JEAN. 


103 


him  to  remain  until  Ahasistari  commands 


if 


again 

"  Good/'  said  tho  Huron,  and,  taking  up 
his  rifle,  wearied  as  he  was,  with  the  elastic 
tread  of  the  brave,  departed.  The  others  sat 
still.      V  •  : 

Ahasistari  and  his  two  followers  had 
hovered  around  tho  trail  of  the  Mohawks, 
but  as  the  foe  was  very  numerous — about 
fifty  warriors  in  all — had  not  obtained  a 
single  opportunity  of  attempting  the  rescue 
of  the  prisoners  by  artifice ;  of  course  force 
was  out  of  the  question.  It  now  became 
necessary  for  the  chief  to  delay  his  opera- 
tions for  the  reasons  which  he  gave  his  fol- 
lowers, and  also  in  the  hope  that  the  num- 
ber of  the  warriors  at  the  village  might  bo 
reduced  by  some  new  expedition,  and  thus 
afford  a  favorable  opportunity  of  making  an 
assault,  with  whatever  braves  Watook  might 
bring  up,  to  whom  he  could  at  any  time 
transmit  his  orders  by  his  remaining  com- 
panion. In  the  meantime,  too,  some  chance 
of  a  successful  stratagem  might  pressnt 
itself,  and  he  determined  to  watch  the  vil- 
lage closely  to  secure,  if  possible,  the  escape 
of  his  friends. 


\ 


104 


FEBB  JEAN. 


\: 


^  When  the  Mohawks  had  approached  the 
end  of  their  journey,  the  Hurons  forsobk 
their  trail,  and  strnck  off  through  the  forest 
to  the  hills,  among  which  they  w^ere  now 
concealed,  having  perceived  them  on  their 
path  from  the  summit  of  a  distant  elevation. 
The  track  of  a  fox  had  led  them  up  the 
ledge  of  rocks  to  the  cave,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  gave  them  the  assurance  that  it  was 
altogether  unfrequented  by  their  foes. 
Leaving  his  companion-i,  Ahasistari  then 
crept  stealthily  towards  the  village,  and 
reached  it  in  time  to  be  a  witness  from  a 
neighboring  thicket  of  all  the  scenes  which 
followed  upon  the  arrival  of  the  war  party, 
and  learned  from  a  single  glance  the  condi- 
tion of  the  captives.  His  plan  was  formed, 
and  he  returned  to  the  rocks  to  carry  them 
out.  With  twenty  good  braves  he  would  not 
have  hesitated  to  attack  the  village,  knowing 
the  vast  advantage  which  darkness  and  sur- 
prise give  to  even  a  few  assailants  over  a 
larger  number,  mingled  with  women  and 
children,  and  unprepared  for  battle.  The 
village,  too,  was  not  defended  by  any 
stockade  or  fortification,  for  such  was  the 


.-'  . 


r-   I, 


TEEE  JEAN. 


105 


terror  of  the  Mohawk  name  that  few  of  their 
enemies  dared  to  set  foot  upon  their  territory. 
But  Ahasistari  deemed  it  more  prudent  to 
postpone  the  attempt,  judp;ing  from  the  de- 
parture of  the  braves  of  the  neighboring  Til- 
lage without  carrying  with  them  a  portion  of 
the  prisoners,  that  for  the  present  they  were 
in  no  danger  of  public  execution.  Such, 
however,  he  knew  to  be  the  passionate 
cruelty  of  the  Iroquois  that  any  one  of  them 
might  be  sacrificed  at  a  moment.  This 
danger  could  not  be  avoided. 

The  night  that  followed  was  a  festive  one 
in  the  village  of  the  Mohawks.  Long  con- 
tinued were  the  rejoicings  of  the  people 
over  th3  valor  of  the  braves,  and  it  was  de- 
termined in  council  to  despatch  runners  to 
Fort  Orange  with  a  portion  of  the  booty, 
which  had  been  large,  to  procure  "fire- 
water "  from  the  traders  for  a  solemn  festi- 
val over  the  victory.  In  the  midst  of  all  this 
joy,  many  sleepless  hours  had  passed  over 
the  heads  of  the  two  Frenchmen.  Sore, 
bruised,  suffering  intense  pain,  unable  to  lie 
at  ease,  slumber  long  delayed  to  shroud  their 
weariness  in  oblivion.    At  length  it  came. 


/ 


v> 


\ 


106 


TEilE   JEAN. 


t  j 


The  Hiirons,  after  the  prayers  of  the  night 
had  been  said,  soon  yielded  to  sleep,  accus- 
tomed as  they  were  to  catch  repose  in  any 
attitude.  Day  broke  gaily  over  the  village, 
and  the  rays  of  the  bright  sun  stole  in 
through  the  chinks  of  the  council  lodge,  and 
rested  in  golden  streaks  upon  the  hard  trod- 
den earthen  floor.  As  the  luminary  rose 
higher  in  the  sky,  a  beam,  playing  through 
a  narrow  crevice,  crept  slowly  over  the  pale 
face  of  the  young  novice.  His  lips  were 
drawn  apart,  a  fixed  expression  of  pain  dwelt 
upon  his  features,  and  his  heavy  and  dis- 
turbed breathing  denoted  the  fever  that 
raged  in  his  veins.  He  slept  on ;  the  joyou  ^^ 
ray  playing  upon  his  sad  features,  myriads 
of  motes  holding  their  gay  revels  in  iis 
beams.  Near  him  slumbered  Father  Laval. 
The  Hurons  were  stretched  around  upon 
the  floor  in  deep  sleep.  At  the  door  of 
the  lodge  sat  the  guarJ,  his  head  resting 
upon  his  knee,  and  his  quick  eye  occasion- 
ally scanning  the  slumberers;  but  for  its 
motion  he  would  have  seemed  as  rapt  in 
sleep  as  they.  Time  passed  on;  the  sounds 
without  told  that  the  village  was  again  all 


i 


V  *. 


I 


1    '■■ 


vi- 


PERE  JEAN. 


107 


alive,  and  one  by  one  the  Ilurons  awol^c 
from  their  long  repose,  and,  stretching  their 
cramped  limbs  as  best  they  might,  arose  to  a 
sitting  posture.  A  single  glance  of  his 
quick  eye  was  all  the  notice  the  guard 
deigned  to  bestow  upon  the  movements. 
The  two  Frenchmen  still  slept  on.  At 
length  Father  Laval  awoke.  For  a  moment 
he  gazed  around  unable  to  realize  his  situa- 
tion; then  turning  hmiself,  he  endeavored  to 
kneel ;  the  effort  was  painful,  but  he  suc- 
ceeded. Rene  Bourdoise  now  opened  his 
eyes,  but  he  was  unable  to  move. 
-  "Do  not  seek  to  rise,  my  son,"  said  the 
Jesuit,  "  you  are  to  weak ;  the  prayer  of  the 
heart  is  acceptable  to  God,  whether  you 
kneel  or  not."  Then  Father  Laval  addressed 
the  Hurons.  "  My  children,  from  the  midst 
of  our  sufferings  let  us  cry  out  to  heaven  for 
mercy,  not  for  the  bodies  which  are  of  earth 
and  perishable,  but  for  the  souls  which  dre 
immortal,  undying.  Let  lis  beseech  our 
heavenly  Father  to  accept  our  sufferings 
here  in  atonement  through  the  blood  of  his 
Son  for  the  sins  of  our  past  lives.  Let  iis 
not  repine.    AVe  suffer—*  it  is  for  the  greater 


108 


PEP.E   JEAN. 


glory  of  God/  He  will  draw  good  for  us 
out  of  this  evil.  Let  us  pray;  let  us  join  in 
spirit  with  our  brethren  of  the  mission  of 
St.  Mary  in  the  holy  sacrifice  of  the  altar." 

The  Indians  listened  in  silence,  and  the 
Jesuit  prayed  aloud.  Many  moments  passed 
thus  in  holy  prayer  and  meditation. 
Streams  of  heavenly  consolation  seemed  to 
pour  down  upon  the  priest  and  his  little 
flock.  Kapt  in  holy  abstraction,  their  suffer- 
ings were  all  forgotten ;  and,  seated  in  heart 
at  the  foot  of  the  Saviour's  cross,  their  own 
sorrows  dwindled  into  nothingness  in  the 
contemplation  of  his  infinite  passion.  Then 
the  stern  spirit  of  the  Hurons  melted,  and  the 
enduring  warrior  became  the'con  trite  penitent 

"The  anger  of  the  Iroquois  is  unsparing, 
my  father.  Death  may  be  ours  at  any  mo- 
ment," said  Le  Loup,  as  the  consoling 
prayer  was  ended. 

"  True,  my  son ;  let  us  prepare  to  meet 
it;"  and  the  Indian,  moving  nearer  to  the 
priest,  began  his  confession.  It  was  done; 
and  the  Jesuit  pronounced  the  words  of  ab- 
solution in  virtue  of  that  power  committed 
by  Christ  to  his  Church,  "Whose  eins  ye 
shall  forgive,  they  are  forgiven."  \ 


'■^'  .■■ 


v 


■&1 


r- 


-*-«p' 


e 


PKltE   JEAN. 


loa 


"Go  in  peace!"  said  the  priest,  and 
another  and  another  came.  Often  before 
had  these  Christian  savages,  in  their  un- 
sophisticated nature,  made  public  confession 
of  their  faults,  seeking  to  humble  themselves 
before  heaven  and  earth,  and  thus  to  show 
the  sincerity  of  their  repentance,  and  to  do 
penance  by  mortifying  their  pride  and  self- 
love;  now,  therefore,  they  did  not  heed  the 
presence  of  their  brethren.  Two  there  were 
who  were  yet  unbaptized,  two  neophytes 
longing  for  the  redeeming  waters  of  the 
purifying  sacrament  In  turn  they  knelt 
and  confessed  themselves,  and  besought  bap- 
tism. Alas!  the  good  priest,  bound  hand 
and  foot,  without  a  drop  of  water,  was  un- 
able to  administer  the  eacred  rite. 

The  pious  occupation  of  the  prisoners  was 
at  length  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
a  warrior,  who  was  soon  followed  by  another. 
It  was  not  long  before  a  number  had 
gathered  in  the  lodge.  One  of  the  Mohawks, 
at  length,  approached  the  Jesuit,  and 
loosed  the  cords  that  bound  him;  then  he 
released  the  young  novice.  Father  Laval 
sat  still  for  some  moments,  endeavoring  to 


110 


PERE  JEAN. 


overcome  the  stiffness  of  his  limbs.  "Whilst 
he  remained  in  this  position  an  Indian 
entered  the  lodge,  bearing  in  his  hand  an 
ear  of  corn  upon  the  stock,  which  he  had 
just  plucked;  he  threw  it  to  the  Jesuit. 
The  sunlight  played  upon  it  as  it  lay — and 
see!  upon  its  silken  beard  and  broad  blade 
clung  little  drops  of  dew* — sparkling  and 
glistening,  like  jewels  in  the  light !  Ah  I  far 
more  precious  at  that  moment  than  all  the 
diamonds  of  Golconda!  There  was  enough 
to  baptize  the  two  captive  Hurons.  Taking 
it  up  carefully,  he  arose,  zeal  and  joy  over- 
coming pain  and  weakness,  and  knelt  above 
the  prostrate  neophytes.  ^         i    . 

"0  my  children,  the  hand  of  the  ever 
merciful  is  with  us.  Kneel — kneel!"  and 
in  the  wild  forest  lodge,  made  holy  as  God's 
temple  by  the  prayers  and  sufferings  of  his 
faithful  children,  with  the  Christian  Huron 
and  wild  Mohawk  looking  on,  without  spon- 
sor, with  no  lights  but  God's  own  sunlight, 
with  no  incense  but  the  ineffably  sweet  in- 

♦  This  incident  Is  related  of  Father  Isaac  Jogues  while 
a  captive  among:  the  Mohawks,  by  Bancroft,  almost  in  the 
words  used  p.bove.    See  Bancroft^  vol  iii,  p.  133.     , . 


\ 


■ 


V. 


-'K^. 


> 


■  f 
I  t 


VERB  JEAN. 


Ill 


/ 


cense  of  humble  pmyer,  before  the  altar  of 
the  heart,  the  priest  admitted  the  rejoicing 
neophytes  into  the  fold  of  Christ,  into  the 
household  of  faith,  sprinkling  the  pure  dew 
of  heaven  upon  their  uplifted  brows.  Won- 
drously  solemn  was  that  simple  baptism  in 
the  wilderness,  in  the  midst  of  trials  and 
sufferings,  in  the  face  of  death.  No  swell, 
ing  organ  arose  over  the  sacrament;  no 
swinging  bell  pealed  out;  no  white  robe 
upon  the  neophyte,  but  the  stainless  one  of 
purity  of  heart;  no  vestment  on  the  priest 
but  the  martyr's,  stained  with  blood. 

"Come  sorrow;  come  death,"  exclaimed 
the  Jesuit ;  "  I  will  heed  them  not,  0  God ! 
for  of  Thy  mercy  there  is  no  end." 

Scarcely  had  he  finished  before  an  Indian 
summoned  him  to  follow  him.  Father 
Laval  left  the  lodge,  A  group  of  boys  were 
gathered  before  the  door,  and  watched  the 
priest  with  interest  as  he  passed  through 
them,  but  did  not  molest  him.  His  con- 
ductor, crossing  the  open  space  around  the 
lodge,  turned  his  steps  towards  a  tent  at  the 
end  of  the  village  near  the  forest.  This  rude 
dv;^elling  of  the  savage  was  constructed  of 


•/ 


112 


r£R£  JEAN. 


" 


poles  sunk  in  the  ground,  in  a  circle,  with 
their  tops  bent  to  a  common  point  and  fast- 
ened together.  Over  this  frame  was 
stretched  a  canopy  of  buffalo  skins,  stitched 
together  with  tbread  made  of  the  tendons  of 
the  deer.  It  was  large  and  commodious, 
and  betokened  the  wealth  and  standing  of 
its  owner.  In  front  the  two  ends  of  the 
covering  hung  apart,  leaving  a  space  for  en- 
ti-ance,  which  was  usually  closed  up  by  a 
single  buffalo  robe  suspended  from  a  cross 
piece  above.  This  was,  of  course,  raised  to 
admit  light  and  air.  The  tent  was  of  far 
better  order  than  the  lodges  around  it,  which 
were  rude  huts  covered  with  bark.  The  In- 
diui  motioned  Father  Laval  to  enter. 
Lying  on  a  couch  of  skins,  the  Jesuit  be- 
held the  young  chief  whose  wounds  he  had 
bound  up  on  the  field  of  battle.  An  old 
man  sat  near  him;  it  was  the  father  of 
Kiskepila,  and  the  chief  of  the  village.  The 
priest  approached  the  couch  of  the  wounded 
man  to  feel  his  pulse,  but  the  old  man  waved 
him  away  with  a  motion  of  his  hand. 

"  Pale    face ! "    he    said    in   the    Huron 
tongue,  "you  are  the  foe  of  the  Mohawks, 


I 


' 


\X1 


^:, 


TERE   JEAN. 


113 


I  ,• 


■.A 


• 


i 


^ 


' 


■ 


and  yet  you  sought  tD  heal  the  wounds  of 
Kiskepila/'     '  "  -  > 

"  I  am  the  foe  of  no  people/*  replied  the 
Jesuit  meekly;  ** my  mission  is  to  save,  not 
to  destroy."  '  ' 

*'Thou  art  the  friend  of  the  Huron?" 
said  the  old  man  interrogatively. 

"Dost  thou  seest  the  sun?"  said  the 
priest.  "  The  God  who  created  it  made  it 
to  shine  alike  upon  the  Huron  and  the  Mo- 
hawk. Its  beams  ripen  the  corn  in  the 
country  of  the  Iroquois,  and  in  the  lands  be- 
yond the  great  lakes.  Will  the  Mohawk 
veil  his  eyes  to  the  sunlight  because  its  rays 
shine  upon  the  Huron  too?"  The  Indian 
was  silent,  and  the  Jesuit  continued: 

"  The  Great  Spirit  loves  all  His  children, 
the  Mohawk  and  the  Huron  ;  will  the  wise 
and  brave  Mohawk  shi\t  his  ears  to  the 
words  of  the  Great  Spirit  because  the  Huron 
has  already  heard  them  ?  " 

"Pale  face,  the  Mohawk  listens  to  the 
voice  of  Owameeyo;  he  hears  it  in  the 
forest,  and  in  the  waters,  and  in  the 
winds ! " 

"  The  Great  Spirit  has  taught  us,  sachem, 


/ 


114 


FERE  JEAN. 


i 


to  love  those  who  hate  us — to  love  all  men — 
to  let  our  hearts  shine  on  all  like  the  sun  of 
heaven ! " 

^^HttghP'  exclaimed  the  Mohawk,  "does 
the  pale  face  speak  with  a  forked  tongue  ? 
The  Iroquois  strikes  his  enemy,  and  it  U 
good!"  and  he  laid  his  hand  upon  his  heart 

Father  Laval  paused  for  a  moment  ere  he 
answered  this  appeal  to  the  natural  pas- 
sions of  man  as  an  argument  against  the 
truth  of  the  Christian  doctrine,  and  then, 
pointing  to  the  wounded  man,  said :  "  Kiske- . 
pila  sought  the  life  of  the  pale  face " 

"  And  the  pale  face  saved  the  life  of  Kis- 
kepila,"  interrupted  the  young  brave  in  a 
tone  of  deep  feeling.  "The  words  of  the 
blackgown  are  true.  The  wolf  kills  the 
deer,  the  bear  the  buffalo,  the  hawk  the 
dove,  and  the  Mohawk  his  wounded  foe.  It 
is  only  the  pale  face — the  blackgown— that 
binds  up  the  wounds  of  his  enemy.  His 
heart  is  gentle  as  the  summer  breeze  I " 

Silence  ensued,  for  the  Indian  scarcely 
knew  how  to  receive  and  estimate  the 
wonderful  magnanimity  of  Christianity. 
Nature  taught  him  to  do  good  for  good ;  to 


\ 


i 


M 


iu; 


FEBE   JEAN. 


115 


return  good  for  evil  was  a  new  thought  to 
him,  yet  it  awoke  a  slumhering  chord  of  the 
heart ;  he  began  to  feel  the  sublimity  of  the 
precept  and  was  silent  At  this  point  of  the 
conyersation  a  squaw  entered  the  lodge,  bear- 
ing several  ears  of  young  corn  and  a  quantity 
of  beans,  which  had  been  roasted  at  a  fire 
without,  and  placed  them  on  a  mat  upon  the 
floor. 

"Eatl''  said  the  chief.  Father  Laval 
approached,  and  making  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  blessed  the  simple  provisions  which 
had  been  offered  to  him,  and  then  proceeded 
to  satisfy  his  famished  appetite.  Hitherto 
he  had  been  furnished  with  barely  enough 
food  to  support  his  strength,  for  it  was  a 
common  mode  of  torture  among  the  Indians 
to  make  their  prisoners  pass  days  and  nights 
together  with  barely  enough  food  to  sustain 
life,  and  yet  inflict  an  incredible  amount  of 
suffering.  Yet  he  ate  moderately.  A  gourd 
of  water  was  placed  beside  him — he  had  not 
slaked  his  thirst  for  many  hours— it  was 
grateful  to  his  burning  lips.  Having  re- 
turned thanks  to  God,  he  arose  and  ap- 
proached the  couch.    The  chief  again  spoke : 


K"^ 


116 


FERE  JEAN. 


r 


I 


"  The  pale  face  made  a  sign  upon  hit!  fore 
hea^i?" 

"  It  was  the  sign  of  the  cross/*  replied  the 
Jesuit 

The  chief  nodded  his  head  affirmatively. 
"  I  thank  the  Great  Spirit  for  his  gifts." 

Then  the  Jesuit  began  to  examine  the 
wounds  of  Kiskepila,  and  to  bind  them 
anew,  all  the  while  explaining  the  meanir.^^ 
of  the  holy  symbol  which  he  had  used ;  how 
God  had  sent  His  Son  on  earth  after  the  sin 
of  our  first  parents,  and  how  his  chosen 
people  had  scourged  and  put  Him  to  death 
upon  the  cross,  and  how,  ever  since  then, 
His  followers  had  used  that  sign  to  recall  to 
their  minds  tue  recollection  of  His  agony 
and  death. 

**  Ugh  I  Dogs  I "  exclaimed  Kiskepila,  as 
he  shook  his  clenched  fist  The  old  chief 
listened  with  a  look  of  incredulity. 

While  the  priest  was  speaking  a  figure 
glided  softly  in  at  the  opening  of  the  tent, 
and  crouched  silently  in  an  ;:n:  3  corner 
with  the  femaies  of  the  fp  .  "!'/  lornin^ 
Flower  listened :  she  could  understand  but 
little,  for  he  spoke  in  the  Huron  dialect 


\ . 


f 


'S-; 


V 


^t 


I 


\.- 


,■  ■) 


l/i' 


FEHE  JEAN. 


117 


111  astoniti]*ment,  she  gazed  upon  him  as  he 
tenderly  bound  up  the  wounds  of  her  lover. 
The  passion  of  the  previous  evening  had 
subsided,  and  she  remembered  with  a  sor 
rowing  heart  that  she  had  tortured  him  in 
the  gauntlet  Hers  was  a  gentle  spirit  in 
spite  of  its  wild  education.  She  arose,  ap- 
proached the  priest,  and  looked  him  in  the 
face;  at  the  same  moment  the  young  var- 
rior,  pointing  to  the  Jesuit,  said : 

"Morning  Flower,  the  blackrobe  saved 
the  life  of  Kiskepila  when  the  Young  Eagle 
had  slain  his  people— the  Hurons." 

Then  the  heart  of  the  >  oman  was  true, 
and,  in  spite  of  early  habits  and  barbarous  - 
training,  beat  there  as  nature  made  it.  A 
gush  of  remorse  filled  her  soul,  and  with  a 
low,  wild  cry  she  broke  away  from  the  tent. 
The  two  Mohawks  looked  at  each  other  in 
astonishment,  unable  to  comprehend  the 
cause  of  so  singular  an  exhibition  of  feeling; 
and  the  elder  exclaimed  in  a  low  tone, 
"Hugh!  Medicine!"  and  shock  his  head, 
attributing  the  action  of  the  girl  to  some 
species  of  enchantment  on  the  part  of  the 
priest.    But  Father  Laval  well  understood 


t 


■  "I  I 


1/ 


„ 


118 


.^-.-  A 


PERE  JEAN. 


I 


it:  he  recognized  the  maiden  who  had  so 
relentlessly  pursued  him  whilst  running  the 
gauntlet ;  yet  he  continued  the  conversation 
without  heeding  the  circumstance  farther. 
'  At  length  the  Jesuit  returned  to  the  coun- 
cil lodge,  where  he  busied  himself  in  min- 
istering  to    the    wounded   Hurons.    Rene 
Bourdoise,  released   from  the  tight  bonds 
which  had  been  so  painful,  began  to  recover 
a  little  from  the  weakness  that  had  rendered 
him  so  helpless.    With  a  tottering  step  he 
descended  to  the  stream,  and  washed  the 
blood  from  his  face  and  hands  and  laved  his 
swollen  feet.    The  cool  water  refreshed  and 
strengthened  him,  calming  the  fever  of  his 
veins.    He  found  a  gourd  upon  the  bank, 
and,  filling  it,  bore  it  to  the  famished  pris- 
oners at  the  lodge.    The  Jesuit  assisted  the 
novice  unheeded  by  the  Mohawks,  who  list- 
lessly reclined   on  the  grass,  occasionally 
casting  a  glance  upon  the  prisoners  to  see  that 
no  attenipt  was  made  to  loosen  their  bonds. 
Towards  evening  the  Jesuit  again  entered 
the  tent  of  Kiodego.    Kiskepila  was  resting 
in  a  half  recumbent  position,  supported  by  a 
pile  of  furs  that  a  king  might  have  envied. 


\'^ 


h/ 


' 


PERE   JEAN. 


119 


Many  days  had  passed  si-nce  his  wounds  had 
been  received,  for  the  march  was  long  and 
tedious,  and  he  was  now  recruiting  his 
strength.  Father  Laval  again  felt  his  pulse, 
for  he  feared  lest  the  fatigue  of  a  long 
journey  upon  a  rough  litter  might  bring  on 
a  fever  which  would  prove  fatal ;  but  a  skill- 
ful preparation  of  draughts  from  herbs  and 
roots  had  prevented  it :  the  stroke  was  still 
calm  and  regular.  Then  he  entered  into 
conversation  with  the  young  brave,  using  as 
much  as  possible  the  Mohawk  tongue,  earn- 
estly seeking  to  become  familiar  with  it  for 
"  the  greater  glory  of  God."  In  the  tedious 
and  painful  route  he  had  caught  a  knowl- 
edge of  it  from  his  captors,  and  its  aflSnity 
with  the  Huron  tongue,  which  he  spoke  with 
ease  and  fluency,  enabled  him  to  make  rapid 
progress. 

The  young  warrior  listened  to  him 
patiently,  but  as  soon  as  he  paused  ad- 
dressed him : 

"Blackgown,  you  have  taught  me  that 
the  pale  face  loves  all,  and  forgives  those 
who  have  injured  him.  Morning  Flower" 
— and  tlie  young  maiden,  springing  up  from 


120 


PEBE  JEAN. 


a; 


a  group  of  females  in  the  farther  part  of  the 
tent,  approached  and  stood  beside  the  priest 
— **  Morning  Flower,  when  the  blood  of  Kis- 
kepila  was  flowing  from  his  veins,  and  his 
heart  was  growing  cold,  the  hand  of  the  pale 
face  stopped  its  flow.  Blackgown,  Morning 
Flower  is  the  destined  bride  of  Kiskepila." 

The  priest  placed  his  hands  upon  the 
head  of  the  young  girl,  and  then,  raising 
them  up  to  heaven,  uttered  a  prayer  for  the 
wild  but  gentle  spirit  before  him.  "  0  Gow 
grant  that  the  light  of  Thy  faith  may  pierce 
the  heart  of  this  untutored  girl  and  of  all 
here.  Mary,  mother  of  the  sorrowful,  bring 
these  wanderers  to  the  faith  of  thy  Son  by 
the  powerful  intercession  of  thy  prayers." 
And  he  added  in  the  Mohawk  tongue, 
"  Daughter,  peace  bo  with  thee.'* 

Then  Father  Laval  began  to  discourse 
again  upon  the  subject  of  his  morning's  con- 
versation, speaking  in  the  Mohawk  dialect 
as  well  as  he  could.  Kiskepila  listened  at- 
tentively, and  the  maiden,  seated  at  her 
lover's  feet,  gathered  every  word  that  fell 
from  the  lips  of  the  priest 

"When  the  Jesuit  had  departed  the  young 


I 


rERE  JEAN. 


121 


II 


warrior  conversed  with  Morning  Flower 
upon  the  discourse  which  they  had  heard, 
I  '  explaining  such  portions  as  had  been  uttered 
in  the  Huron  dialect,  and  wondering  over 
that  which  was  mysterious  and  difScult,  for 
it  is  hard  to  express  abstract  ideas  in  the 
Indian  language.  The  kindness  and  atten- 
tion of  the  missionary  had  won  the  heart  of 
the  young  Iroquois,  and  finding  that  he  acted 
out  in  his  own  life  what  he  taught  to  others, 
under  the  impulse  of  a  grateful  feeling,  he 
lent  a  willing  ear  to  his  words.  Kiskepila 
had  a  clear  head,  and  the  very  fact  that  the 
Jesuit  faced  so  many  dangers,  and  endured 
so  much  toil  and  suffering,  to  preach  the 
doctrines  of  his  religion,  satisfied  him  at 
once  of  the  uprightness  and  sincerity  of  his 
motives.  The  skill  and  knowledge  of  the 
Frenchman  proved  to  him  that  he  was  no 
ordinary  man,  and  he  inclined  to  believe  even 
the  wonderful  tidings  he  announced.  Yet 
doubts  met  him  at  every  point  as  he  thought 
over  the  strange  things  be  had  been  told. 
When,  therefore,  the  Jesuit  entered  the  tent 
on  the  following  day,  he  questioned  him : 
"  Blackgown,  you  tell  me  that  the^  Saviour 


»T»- 


122 


FERE  JEAN. 


died  and  was  buried,  and  that  on  the  third 
day  He  arose  again  from  the  dead.  I  have 
never  seen  the  dead  arise — how  can  I  believe 
it?'' 

"  My  son,  it  would  have  been  no  proof  of 
His  divinity  if  rising  from  the  dead  had  been 
an  ordinary  occurrence.  But  He  is  God. 
He  it  was  who  made  the  law  that  all  men 
should  die,  and  that  law  he  could  suspend 
or  alter.  As  man  He  died ;  as  God-man  He 
arose.  The  people  of  thy  tribe  believe  that 
the  spirits  of  the  departed  do  not  die ;  can 
not  the  God  who  preserves  the  spirit  pre- 
serve also  the  body  and  give  it  back  to  life  ? 
Can  He  not  at  a  word  bid  the  tomb  to  open, 
and  the  lifeless  corpse  to  live  and  breathe 
again  ?  Ah,  my  son !  there  are  no  laws  to 
bind  the  Omnipotent  God  but  the  laws  of 
His  own  mercy  and  justice  and  eternal 
providence.  He  has  been  pleased  to  listen 
to  the  prayer  of  His  humble  followers  upon 
this  earth,  and  has  for  them  wrought 
miracles  almost  equally  wonderful.  The 
Blessed  Xavier,  on  the  shore  of  the  far  east, 
knelt  and  prayed,  and  the  ear  of  the  Almighty 
was  inclined  towards  him,  and  when  the  holy 


1 


J 


:.:  .■'-»  -Vt  ■  -.i--:-  :■!> 


s-  '■  ■ 


.»>;?■::,.'> 


;-  7  ■•^■ 


FERE  JEAN. 


'>*'' 


123 


priest  stretched  forth  his  hand  and  called 
upon  the  dead  to  come  forth  from  his  silent 
grave,  the  lifeless  sprang  up  into  strength 
and  health  and  beauty." 

A  deep  exclamation  of  surprise  broke  from 
the  lips  of  the  attentive  Indian,  whilst  the 
women  of  the  family  gathered  nearer  to  hear 
the  words  of  the  animated  speaker.  Warmed 
with  a  holy  zeal,  the  Jesuit  continued  in  a 
clear,  firm  voice :  '^' 

"The  resurrection  of  the  Saviour  from 
the  dead  was  to  be  the  final  seal  of  salvation; 
it  was  to  open  the  way  for  us  from  the  tomb 
to  heaven  I  '* 

Then  Father  Laval  went  on  to  tell  how, 
ages  before  His  coming,  the  mode  of  His 
birth.  His  suffering,  the  miracles  which  He 
was  to  perform.  His  passion  and  His  death 
had  been  foretold,  and  how  exactly  they  had 
been  accomplished;  and  he  summed  up  all 
the  evidences  of  Christianity,  while  the 
young  warrior  listened  attentively,  often 
bowing  his  head  in  token  of  assent.    :  s^s^  u 

"  Yes,  it  must  be  true,"  he  said  at  length, 
after  the  Jesuit  had  concluded ;  "  Kiskepila 
must  believe."         *  •      -  t   -• 


/ 


12A 


FEKE  JEAN. 


i^  Thus  Father  Laval  sought  every  oppor- 
tunity to  impress  upon  the  mind  of.  the 
young  warrior  the  truths  of  Christianity,  and 
the  relation  which  .existed  between  them 
made  the  young  Iroquois  listen  with  a 
docility  unexampled  among  that  fierce  race. 
Whatever  the  young  man  learned  he  was 
sure  to  communicate  to  Morning  Flower, 
who  soon  began  to  seek  occasions  of  convers- 
ing with  the  priest,  and  listened  with  ad- 
miration to  his  accounts  of  the  splendor  of 
the  cities  of  France,  and  the  number  of  their 
inhabitants,  things  like  the  wonders  of  fairy 
tales  to  her  unsophisticated  imagination. 
With  these  accounts  the  priest  always 
mingled  descriptions  of  the  splendid  churches 
and  of  the  gorgeous  ceremonial,  of  the  sacred 
rites  performed  within  them  to  the  honor 
and  glory  of  God,  and  explained  them  to  the 
maiden  as  well  as  ho  could  in  his  Imperfect 
knowledge  of  the  language.  Then,  leaving 
these  subjects,  he  would  converse  upon  the 
moral  relations  of  Christian  society,  instruct 
her  in  the  duties  of  woman,  and  teach  her 
the  obligations  of  religion,  the  sanctity  of 
marrias:e,  and  the  beauty  and  holincsi  of 


■'«^i» 


'a^f 


:i:^.    ? 


A 


(  • 


\'; 


(  v.. 


.■ 


^t;>-;-^-. 


" 


■\ 


■    ! 


PERE  JEAN. 


125 


purity  of  mind  and  body.  Morning  Flower 
drank  in  his  words  and  kept  them  in  her 
heart  But  this  was  the  work  of  days.  In 
the  meanwhile  the  village  was  filled  with, 
various  accounts  of  the  conversations  which 
the  priest  had  held  in  the  tent  of  Kiodego — 
how  he  had  spoken  of  wonderful  and  mys- 
terious things^  and  how  he  had  said  that  the 
fathers  of  the  blackgown,  in  times  not  long 
gone  by,  had  called  the  dead  from  their 
tombs.  These  reports,  increased  and  dis- 
torted as  they  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
cast  a  species  of  awe  around  the  priest  in  the 
eyes  of  many.  He  began  to  be  looked  upon 
as  a  magician  or  medicine  more  powerful 
than  their  own.  Yet  unconscious  of  all  this, 
the  humble  Jesuit  pursued  his  labors  with 
increasing  assiduity.  .,_-.- 


.V  r- 


■  .?■■-' -a-         .■^^.'■■' 


■I 


:■; '  ^I  ■ 


':i^^-1V 


% 


\ 


^'  } 


126  - 


rSKB  J£ 

:an. 

> 

■  ^  ■;-.  ''ii' 

v.-y-^':, 

■  -'-'^ifM 

■■■'J. 

D     TY 

• 

.%;t3^ii:^#|atTHB    COUNCIL. 


iirv:..^' 


■''^: 


»»<^ 


VEUY  night  Father  liaval  and 
the  novice  had  been  bound  and 
confined  with  the  other  prisoner^ 
in  the  lodges  In  the  meanwhile 
Rene  Bourdoise  began  to  gaiix  strength,  for 
Morning  Flower,  compassionating  his  suffer- 
ings, extended  her  kindness  towaanls  him, 
and  supplied  him,  as  well  as  Father  Laval, 
with  food,  in  addition  to  that  distributed 
by  their  captors.  A  little  gentle  exercise, 
and  hours  of  rest  assisted  nature  wonder- 
fully in  her  recuperative  efforts:  but 
although  the  two  Frenchmen  recruited  each 
day  in  health,  they  were  still  subject  to  all 
the  petulant  cruelty  of  the  Iroquois.  Still  it 
was  only  that  common  torture  which  every 
captive  was  made  to  endure,  and  though 
great  in  itself,  dwindled  away  into  littleness 
when  met  by  their  boundless  patience  and 
tranquillity  of  heart. 


i  r. 


I 


I.' 


i- 


1 ' 


■9  •' 


* 


J'. 


;^ 


5-   :) 


•/ 


■'-•'i 


PEBE  JEAN 


127 


% 


a  ? 


■  A  week  had  passed,  but  there  seemed  to 
be  no  disposition  on  the  part  of  the  Mohawk 

^#  warriors  to  leave  their  village  even  upon  a 
hunting  expedition.  It  was  the  corn  moon, 
and  plenty  surrounded  them — and  the  In- 
dian is  always  satisfied  if  the  present  mo- 

i  '  ment  be  provided  for.  They  were  awaiting 
the  return  of  the  runners  with  the  fire- 
water from  Fort  Orange.  Towards  the  even- 
ing of  the  sixth  day  these  messengers  came 
back  unexpectedly  to  the  village,  having  met 
a  Dutch  trader  some  days'  journey  from  the 
village,  and  purchased  from  him  the  neces- 
sary supply.  It  was  now  determined  by  the 
braves  that  a  council  should  be  held  on  the 
following  day  to  decide  upon  the  fate  of  the 
prisoners;  and  a  portion  of  the  fire-water 
was  set  aside  for  the  carousings  which  would 
follow  upon  such  a  proceeding.  A  runner 
was  therefore  at  once  despatched  to  the  vil- 
lage which  had  joined  in  the  war  party,  in- 
viting the  presence  of  a  deputation  to  assist 
at  the  council.  ;  /    .    v-'vi;    ^ 

-^Father  Laval,  who  had  already  retired  to 
the  council  lodge,  watched  these  proceedings 
with  a  troubled  eye ;  he  saw  bustle  and  prep- 


128 


FERE  JEAN. 


aration,  but  was  unable  to  conceive  its  ob- 
ject, Le  Loup  sat  coldly  watching  the 
movements  of  the  Iroquois,  knowing  too 
well  what  was  likely  to  ensue.  The  Jesuit 
at  length  turned  an  inquiring  eye  upon  him, 
and  questioned  him : 

"  What  is  the  cause  of  all  this  commotion, 
my  son?" 

*^ Fire-water!^'  said  Le  Loup,  senten- 
tiously.  "The  runners  have  como  back 
from  the  traders,  and  the  Moha^vk  will  be 
crazy  to-night — ^he  will  kill  if  he  can." 

"If  he  can?~alasl  there  is  nothing  to 
prevent  him;  then,  my  children,  we  must 
look  upon  death  as  immediately  before  us, 
and  be  ready  to  meet  hiT»  like  Christian 
menl"  '  ,^r  •• 

"Good I"  said  Le  Loup  emphat^'cally, 
"but  they  will  not  all  drink — they  will  cast 
lots  who  shall  be  guard— W2«y  kill,  though. 
It  is  good  to  be  ready  I " 

At  length  the  council  lodge  was  closed  up 
and  fastened  firmly,  while  it  was  evident  to 
the  prisoners  that  a  double  guard  was  placed 
over  them,  to  protect  them  from  any  at- 
tempts which  might  be  made  against  them 


./v, 


M 


.< 


^1 


• 


/i': 


'\ 


< 


VI- 


PERS  JEAN. 


1'9 


by  the  intoxicated  Indians  in  the  fury  of 
their  orgies.  The  noise  without  began  to  in- 
crease, and  soon  became  uproarious.  The 
greater  portion  of  the  intoxicating  liquid 
had  been  carefully  concealed  in  order  that  it 
might  be  preserved  for  the  second  festival, 
in  putsuance  of  the  plan  adopted.  The  in- 
toxication, therefore,  of  the  braves,  scarcely 
reached  to  that  point  of  frenzy  when  the 
whole  passion  of  the  savage  is  aroused  and 
nothing  but  blood  will  satisfy  him.  Yet 
now  and  then  an  Indian,  ihore  excited  than 
the  rest,  would  approach  the  lodge  with 
reeling  step,  but  flashing  eye,  and  endeavor 
to  force  his  way  to  the  prisoners;  but  the 
strong  guard,  at  the  entrance,  always  baffled 
their  attempts,  and  drove  off  the  assailants 
with  good  humored  blows  and  laughter.  As 
the  arms  of  the  drinkers  had  been  taken 
from  them  little  danger  was  to  be  appre- 
hended from  them,  unless  they  should 
succeed  in  obtaining  them  again.  Kight 
came  on,  and  by  the  light  of  the  fires  the 
revellers  carried  on  their  orgies.  The  blaze 
falling  on  the  front  of  the  council  lodge, 
cast  the  rear  and  the  tents  behind  it  into 


] 


130 


r£UE   JEAN. 


a  (lark  shadow.  Most  of  the  inhabitants 
had  gathered  in  the  open  space,  and  were 
occupied  in  observing  the  mad  antics  of  the 
drunken  Indians.  At  length,  while  the 
carousing  was  at  its  height,  a  figure  slowly 
emerged  from  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and 
keeping  in  the  darkest  shadows,  outstretched 
upon  the  ground,  coiled  along  slowly  and 
cautiously  towards  the  lodge.  There  it 
rolled  up  close  beside  the  lower  logs  of  the 
wide  building,  and  even  to  a  searching  eye 
was  almost  indistinguishable  from  them. 
Thus  it  lay  for  some  time  motionless,  Le 
Loup  had  just  stretched  himself  upon  the 
hard  floor,  when  he  heard  a  low  sound  like 
the  ticking  of  an  insect  in  the  log  near  his 
head.  It  persevered  in  a  singular  manner, 
and  he  answered  it  with  a  like  sound. 

"  Huron ! "  said  a  voice  very  low,  but  per- 
fectly distinct—reaching  no  other  ear  but 
that  of  the  prostmte  warrior. 

"  Le  Loup ! "  replied  the  other,  giving  his 
name. 

"  Good ! "  said  the  other  voice,  which  the 
Huron  recognized  as  that  of  Ahasistari. 

"Council  to-night?"  asked  the  chief, 
after  a  pause. 


i 


y-,„ 


PERE   JEAN. 


131 


**No,  to-morrow  I"  said  Le  Lonp. 
"  Is    the    blackffown 


strong 


enough 


to 


travel  to  the  river  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  the  Mohav/k  is  quick  and 
watchful."        -.  '   I  i:  V.       . 

"Can  the  Huron  escape  from  the  lodge 
with  the  help  of  Ahasistari?" 

"There  is  an  opening  above,  but  all  are 
bound  hand  and  foot." 

"The  knife  of  Ahasistari  will  sever  the 
cord  " — a  silence  ensued,  during  which  the 
chief  was  busily  occupied  in  removing  a 
block,  which  filled  up  the  space  between 
two  of  the  logs — "let  Le  Lolip  lay  close,  so 
that  the  knife  may  cut  his  cord,"  said  Aha- 
sistari, as  the  block  began  to  yield  to  his 
efforts.  At  this  moment  two  braves  of  the 
guard,  fearful  that  some  of  the  carousers 
might  endeavor  to  do  mischief  through  an 
opening  in  the  rear,  passed  around  the  lodge 
to  examine  it.  They  conversed  as  they 
went  along,  and  the  engrossing  topic  of  the 
village  expectation  filled  their  r^ '   Is. 

"  The  pale  face  is  a  great  meui  ae,"  said 
one;  "the  braves  of  the  tribe  will  not  spare 
him  in  the  council— for  he  will  blight  the 


K 


132 


FEBE  JEAN. 


coming  harvest,  and  cast   a   spell    on  the 
hunting  grounds." 

"The  big  Huron  will  be  tortured,"  said 
the  other.  ^^    ^^  *:i*^ 

%  "Yes!  no  one  will  adopt  them,  and  they 
must  be  tortured,  the  dogs  I "  --^Atif/m^w 

"The  council  will  decide  to-morrow — 
Kiohba  wishes  all  to  be  tortured.  None 
know  the  wishes  of  Kiodego,  and  the  war 
chief  is  silent." 

The  two  Mohawks  now  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment almost  touching  Ahasistari,  who  lay 
close  to  the  side  of  the  lodge,  motionless  as 
the  -ivood  itself.  From  their  conversation 
the  chief  gathered  that  the  council  was 
looked  to  with  great  anxiety,  as  there  was  a 
diversity  oi  opinion  with  regard  to  the  fate 
of  the  Jesuit.  At  this  moment  a  wild  yell 
interrupted  the  two  Mohawks,  and  drew  them 
away.  The  carousers  having  exhausted  the 
liquor  set  out  for  them,  searched  for  the  re- 
mainder, and  having  found  it,  overpowered 
the  guard  and  bore  it  off.  The  Huron  chief 
renewed  his  efforts  with  more  hardihood, 
when  he  was  again  interrupted.  The  In- 
dians in  charge  of  the  lodge  had  left  it  un* 


\ 


PEEE  JEAN. 


133 


In- 


protected,  and  hastened  to  the  assistance  of 
their  companions.  Several  of  the  half  in- 
toxicated Mohawks  discovered  this,  and 
rushed  towards  the  lodge  in  a  body,  deter- 
mined to  sacrifice  the  prisoners  upon  the  in- 
stant. The  old  women  had  obtained  some 
of  the  rum,  and  now,  intoxicated,  they  joined 
furiously  in  the  revels,  till  the  open  space 
around  the  fires  presented  a  scene  worthy  of 
pandemonium.  The  light  of  the  fires,  as 
they  stirred  and  tossed  up  the  brands, 
flashed  fitfully  upon  the  crowds  of  reeling 
wretches,  shrieking  in  the  madness  of  in- 
ebriety. Here  were  groups  contending  with 
the  guards  for  the  last  remnants  of  the  fire- 
water. There  parties  of  the  revellers  fought 
and  struggled  in  harmless  fury  among  them- 
selves. The  grave  and  solemn  Indian  war- 
rior, transformed  into  a  wallowing  brute; 
some  sat,  like  grinning  idiots,  gazing  with 
meaningless  faces  into  the  fires,  whose  glare 
played  wildly  over  their  crouching  figures — 
whilst,  fiercest  of  all,  came  on  towards  the 
lodge,  the  few  bent  on  murder.  They  had 
reached  the  opening,  no  guards  were  there ; 
the  fastenings  were  yielding  to  their  hands. 


-swr. 


1"-' 

m 

134                            PERE   JEAN. 

t 

'^r- 

/ 

At  that  moment  a  powerful  figure  rose  up, 

as  it  were  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  mingled 

with    them.    Two   heavy   blows  from  his 

.^>-K. 

stalwart  arm  brought  the  foremost  of  the 

\ 

rioters  to  the  ground;  the  rest  fell  over  them 
shouting  madly.    The  figure  drew  back  be- 
hind the  corner  of  the  lodge,  for  the  cries  of 
the  party  had  attracted  the  guard,  who  ran 
in  strength  to  the  spot,  and  having  relieved 
the  prisoners  from  danger,  which  was  immi- 
nent,  remained  doubly  watchful  at  their 

position.    In    a   moment   more   Ahasistari 

■ 

gained  the  ^dge  of  the   forest  and  stood 
awaiting  the  result.    All  hope  of  escape  for 
that  night  was  cut  off.    Some  of  the  guards 
took  their  position  within  the  lodge,  while 
others  destroyed  the  rum  that  still  remained, 
as  the  only  means  of  quieting  tlie  tumult; 
and  one  by  one  the  revellers  fell  off  into  the 
deep  sleep  of  intoxication. 

Ahasistari  returned  to  his  hiding  place 
among  the  rocks,  satisfied  that  no  further 
harm  would  befall  the  prisoners  until  the 
council  should  decide  upon  their  fate.    Le 
Loup  felt  little  doubt,  and  he  could  delay 
no  longer  in  the  attempt  at  rescue,  but  must 

.    \    ' 

•      .         ■ 

_,                         ■  i.   ;, 

\ 


PERE  JEAN. 


135 


y 


at  length  cast  all  his  hopo  upon  the  hazard 
of  the  die.  He  must  win  all  or  lose  all.  As 
Quickfoot  did  not  return,  he  concluded  that 
he  must  have  fallen  in  with  Watook,  and 
that  they  awaited  his  commands  at  the  ap- 
pointed spot.  It  was  now  necessary  to  de- 
spatch the  remaining  Huron  instantly  to 
bring  up  these  warriors,  and,  it  would  even 
then  occupy  them  until  the  evening  of  the 
next  day  to  reach  the  rocky  hiding  place  of 
their  chief.  The  Huron  set  out,  and  Aha- 
sistari  was  left  alone.  He  knelt  and  prayed. 
Father  Laval  remained  some  time  ab- 
sorbed in  prayer  after  all  the  sound3  with- 
out had  died  away.  Of  a  strong  and  en- 
during frame,  and  used  to  hardships,  he  had 
already  recovered  from  the  effects  of  the 
long  and  painful  march  through  the  forest, 
while  the  novice,  though  much  improved, 
still  suffered  severely  from  his  labors.  The 
Hurons,  all  along,  aware  that  their  chief 
was  hovering  about  them,  knew  that  any  at- 
tempt at  rescue  was  of  too  doubtful  result 
for  them  to  rest  a  hope  upon,  and  prepared 
themselves  still  more,  every  hour,  for  that 
final  aud  fatal  trial  which  impended  over 


•S-.  • 


:■•■  ^  \ 


136 


PEUE  JEAN. 


them.  At  length  they  gave  themselves  np 
to  slumber  with  cheerful  hearts,  trusting  in 
the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God. 

With  morning  began  the  preparations  for 
the  council.  The  sullen  countenances  of 
those  who  had  shared  over  night  in  the 
debauch,  boded  ill  for  the  prisoners.  Many 
a  scowling  and  savage  look  was  cast  upon 
them.  A  little  after  noon  came  the  deputa- 
tion fiom  the  neighboring  village:  it  was 
small,  composed  of  but  two  or  three  braves, 
the  greater  portion  of  the  successful  war- 
riors having  gone  out  with  their  share  of  the 
plunder  towards  Fort  Orange  to  exchange  it 
for  powder,  lead,  rum  and  other  articles  of 
traffic.  The  deputies  were  received  with 
much  pomp  and  ceremony,  and  regaled  with 
the  best  fare  that  the  village  contained. 
They  were  then  conducted  to  the  council 
lodge,  where  the  proceedings  wera  opened 
with  great  state  and  solemnity.  The  elder 
and  most  distinguished  braves  formed  them- 
selves in  a  circle  in  the  centre  of  the  lodge ; 
beyond  them  sat  the  less  notable  of  the 
tribe.  Each  one,  as  he  entered,  took  his 
seat   in   order;    profound   silence    reigned 


t      / 


'(> 


%. 


PERE   JEAN. 


137 


1 1 


throngbont  the  assemblage.  At  length  the 
old  chief  arrived — the  calumet  was  passed 
around — and,  at  a  sign  from  Kiodego,  as  a 
mark  of  honor,  the  brave  who  had  com- 
manded the  successful  war-posts  arose  to  ad- 
dress them.  His  voice,  at  first  low,  swelled 
out  as  he  proceeded,  and  his  gesture  became 
animated  and  picturesque.  A  robe  of  light 
skins  was  fastened  around  his  waist  and  fell 
below  his  thigh ;  a  collar,  of  the  claws  of  the 
wild  bear,  hung  around  his  neck;  a  snake 
skin  encircled  his  arm,  and  the  feathers  of 
the  wild  eagle  adorned  his  head.  Hfs  face 
was  hideously  painted.  'Streaks  of  black  and 
red  were  drawn  from  his  ears  towards  his 
mouth,  while  a  broad  band  of  vermillion  ex- 
tsnded  across  his  forehead  and  over  his  eyes. 
As  he  spoke  he  pointed  towards  the  prison- 
ers, and  at  length  singled  out  the  Jesuit. 

"Whv  has  he  come  from  his  far  land, 
from  the  bones  of  his  fathers,  across  the 
great  water,  to  the  hunting  grounds  of  the 
red  men?  His  people  have  settled  down 
among  our  brothers  in  the  north,  and  lo! 
they  have  made  them  women  I  They  have 
turned  the  Hurons  to  dogs,  made  them  for- 


A 


I  I 


138 


PERE  JEAN. 


sake  the  Great  Spirit,  and  join  with  the  pale 
face  in  battle  against  their  own  kind  and 
color  1  The  blackrobe  is  a  medicine;  he 
speaks,  and  warriors  weep;  the  Hurons  are 
his  slaves;  he  is  a  great  medicine.  What 
shall  be  the  fate  of  the  pale  face  ?  " 

The  chief  sat  down,  and  a  silence  of  a  few 
mhiutes'  duration  ensued.  It  was  broken  at 
length  by  a  warrior,  who  said: 

"  Let  him  die !  Kiohba's  voice  is  that  the 
pale  face  die  at  the  stake.  His  enchant- 
ments have  destroyed  the  Ilnrons,  have 
driven  away  the  buffalo  and  bounding  deer. 
His  people  have  swept  down  the  beautiful 
forests  on  the  great  river.  Kiohba  has  seen 
him  make  that  sign  upon  his  forehead,  which 
our  white  brothers  of  Fort  Orange  tell  us  is 
a  folly  and  a  wickedness — a  sorcery.  If  the 
chiefs  spare  the  pale  face,  he  will  soften  the 
hoarts  of  the  Iroquois  and  weaken  their  arms 
in  battle,  and  they  will  fall  before  his  people 
and  become  slaves,  like  the  Hurons.  The 
pale  face  must  die ! "  »  i  -  -  ^*.,  ^ 
^?^  Several  of  the  warriors  nodded  their 
heads  in  silent  approval  of  the  speech  of  the 
brave.  ' 


\ 


-  N 


•I 


\ 


I  I 


FERE  JEAN. 


139 


"Let  us  keep  the  great  medicine,"  said 
one  wlio  had  not  been  of  the  war  party,  but 
who  had  listened  with  wonder  to  the  re- 
ported conversions  of  the  priest.  "Let  us 
keep  him  in  the  tribe.  Let  us  make  him 
our  brother,  and  give  him  the  first  ripe  corn 
and  the  fattest  of  the  deer!  Let  us  build 
i  im  a  lodge,  and  his  heart  will  love  the  Mo- 
hawk people,  he  will  strengthen  their  arms 
and  protect  their  villages ! "  "      - 

A  smile  of  scorn  played  upon  the  lips  of 
Kiohba,  as  he  replied :  "  My  brother  is  a 
cunning  counsellor ;  he  is  wise  and  brave  at 
the  council  fire!  Does  he  need  a  great 
medicine  to  strengthen  his  courage? 
Kiohba  fears  not  the  medicine.  He  has 
met  the  Huron  and  the  French  in  the  battle. 
The  pale  face  must  die ! " 

Other  warriors  now  arose,  some  espousing 
one  side  and  some  the  other.  The  dispute 
grew  warm,  when  Kiodego  interposed: 

"My  brothers!"  he  said,  "it  has  been  de- 
manded, why  the  blackrobe  came  into  our 
land,  and  why  he  goes  far  into  the  wilder- 
ness with  the  HuronS)  scattering  his  spells 
upon  his  path.    Let  the  pale  face  answer! 


.>^ 


A 


f 


140 


FEBE  JEAN. 


Unbind  him,  and  lead  him  forward."  A 
young  warrior  hastened  to  release  the 
Jesuit,  and  assisted  him  into  the  circle. 

"Speak,  Tulhasagal"  said  the  old  chief 
coldly,  as  if  he  had  as  yet  heard  nothing 
from  the  priest  concerning  the  ol-ject  of  his 
mission.  "  Speak !  Why  comest  thou  to  our 
land  ?    What  dost  thou  seek  ?  " 

Father  Laval  bowed  his  head  fur  a  mo- 
ment in  prayer,  and  then  replied : 

"Chief,  I  seek  souls;  I  came  to  do  the 
work  of  my  Master;  I  came  to  preach 
another  faith  in  this  land,  to  teach  and  in- 
struct the  ignorant.  My  mission  is  one  of 
peace ;  it  is  with  the  souls  of  men,  and  not 
their  bodies.  I  would  teach  them  to  calm 
their  passions,  to  cast  out  the  spirit  of  evil 
from  their  hearts ;  to  walk  in  the  path  of 
justice  and  of  virtue.  I  came  over  the 
stormy  waters  to  bear  the  tidings  of  the 
Gospel  to  the  heathen,  and  to  plant  the  holy 
cross  in  the  wilderness.  You  ask,  with 
what  object  I  was  going  ftir  into  the  west. 
I  was  about  to  seek  new  converts  to  the 
cross.  But,  chief," — and  the  voice  of  the  mis- 
sionary swelled  out  into  its  fullest  and  most 


^:': 


in 


FERE  JEAK. 


141 


( I 


musical  tones,  entrancing  the  car  of  the 
eava^w.  His  form  was  lifted  up,  and  his 
hands  outstretched  before  him.  "But, 
chief,  the  Great  Spirit,  in  His  wisdom,  has 
willed  it  otherwise.  From  my  path  to  the 
Huron  country  He  has  turned  my  steps  to- 
wards the  Mohawk  villages — ^and  here,  0 
chief,  in  captivity,  submissive  to  the  will  of 
my  Divine  Master,  I  preach  Christ  to  the 
Iroquois;  I  preach  Christ  crucified;  listen  to 
me!"  Deep  exclamations  broke  from  the 
astonished  council,  but  they  awaited  in 
patience.  "You  are  in  darkness,  I  bring 
you  light;  receive  it ! "  And  he  told  them 
how  God  had  created  the  world,  and  man 
the  lord  of  all;  of  the  fall;  of  the  redemp- 
tion; of  the  new  Gospel;  of  the  commission 
to  His  apostles  and  their  successors,  to  go 
forth  and  "  teach  all  nations,  baptizing  them 
in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son, 
and  of  the  Holy  Ghost;  how  that  commis- 
sion had  been  sealed  by  miracles ;  how  the 
blind  saw,  the  lame  walked,  and  the  dead 
were  raised  to  life  again.  And  then  he 
painted  before  their  eyes,  in  glowing  colors, 
the  j«ys  of  heaven  Avhich  were  reserved  for 


V 


It 


142 


FERE  JEAN. 


those  who  should  believe  in  Him,  and  love 
and  serve  Him,  and  the  fearful  torments 
which  the  all-jnst  God  destined  for  those 
who  should  reject  and  disobey  His  commands. 
A  gleam  of  wild  joy  broke  from  the  eyes  of 
the  Hiirons,  as  they  looked  upon  the  aston- 
ished Mohawks,  while  the  Jesuit  continued: 
"This  is  the  religion  which  I  preach;  these 
are  the  glad  tidings  which  I  bring  you ;  and 
it  is  to  announce  this  Gospel  to  the  children 
of  the  wilderness  that  I  have  come  from  the 
land  of  the  east.  The  Great  Spirit  speaks 
it  to  you  by  my  mouth ;  listen,  and  believe!  " 

Father  Laval  concluded,  and  silence 
reigned  for  a  time  throughout  the  lodge. 
At  length  Kiodego  addressed  him : 

"  My  brother  has  spoken  well,  he  is  wise ! 
But  he  tells  a  strange  tale,  how  shall  we  be- 
lieve him?" 

"He  speaks  with  a  forked  tongue,"  said 
Kiohba;  "he  is  a  liar  I" 

"We  are  satisQed  with  our  own  God,''  ex- 
claimed another — "  the  war-god — Wacondah. 
The  God  of  the  great  medicine  has  made 
cowards  of  the  Hurons ;  the  God  of  the  Mo- 
hawks strengthens  the  arms  of  his  children 


A 


/    -v 


^v 


iv 


I 


FERE  JEAN. 


143 


t^ 


le 


m 


in  battle.  The  Mohawks  want  not  the  God 
of  the  pale  face,"  And  then  the  clamor  for 
his  death  became  louder,  while  the  advocates, 
not  of  mercy,  but  of  delay  for  expediency, 
were  silenced.  The  fate  of  the  good  priest 
seemed  already  sealed.  "Without  farther  de- 
lay, a  Mohawk  approached  him,  and,  at  a 
signal  from  the  chief,  compelled  him  to 
kneel,  and  began  to  paint  his  head  and  face. 
Then  a  shout  of  joy  broke  from  the  crowd 
without ;  for  it  was  the  mark  of  death  upon 
the  victim,  and  they  revelled  already  in  an- 
ticipation of  the  torture.  At  that  moment 
a  slight  movement  was  made  in  the  crowd 
around  the  door;  it  swayed  forward  and 
backward,  and  then  gave  way,  leaving  an 
opening  into  the  centre  of  the  circle.  Lean- 
ing upon  a  warrior,  Kiskcpila,  weak  and 
tottering,  with  his  bandages  still  upon  his 
wounds,  pressed  forward  through  the  pas- 
sage. The  eye  of  the  young  chief  fill  upon 
the  group  in  the  centre.  An  exclamation 
burst  from  his  lips.  With  the  mighty 
energy  of  a  strong  spirit  he  rose  from  the 
arm  that  supported  his  weak  form  and 
strode  alone  into  the  circle.    With  one  hand 


/'' 


144 


FEBE  JEAN. 


lie  cast  aside  the  Mohawk;  the  other  he 
rested  upon  the  brow  of  the  priest.  A 
death-like  stillness  reigned  upon  the  scene ; 
not  a  hand  was  raised  to  arrest  his  course ; 
not  a  voice  was  uplifted  against  him.  Sur- 
prise held  all  men  silent,  while  the  flashing 
eye  of  the  young  warrior  turned  from  face  to 
face.  "  Kiskepila  is  a  chief,"  said  the  young 
eagle  of  his  tribe,  "who  will  oppose  him? 
The  Hiirons  have  fled  before  the  arm  of 
Kiskepila  I  Shall  he  have  no  voice  in  the 
councils  of  the  tribe  ?  "  And  he  placed  the 
other  hand  above  the  head  of  the  kneeling 
priest.  "Shall  ho  be  silent  when  the 
boaster  is  heard  ?  "  and  he  pointed  to  Kiohba. 
"Kiskepila  asks  the  chiefs  and  braves  to 
spare  the  pale  face."  He  looked  around  for 
a  reply — there  was  none.  At  length  Kiohba 
said  coldly: 

"  The  chiefs  and  braves  have  spoken ;  the 
pale  face  must  die.  See !  the  death  paint  is 
upon  his  brow." 

With  a  look  of  scorn  the  young  man 
turned  away  from  the  speaker  and  glanced 
once  more  around  the  circle.  The  features 
of  the  stern  Mohawks  were  unmoved ;  they 
were  silent    Kiohba  was  triumphing. 


PEEE  JEAN. 


145 


to 


the 
is 


"My  brothers  I"  said  Kiskepila,  his  eye 
lighting  up  again  with  indignation,  "my 
brothers,  Kiskepila  was  wounded  and  faint- 
ing, and  dying  upon  the  field  of  battle;  and 
the  pale  face  bathed  his  lips  and  bound  his 
wounds.  Kiskepila  owes  a  life  to  the  pale 
face,  and  he  will  repay  it  Let  Kiohba 
show  the  mark  of  a  Huron  on  his  breast,  or 
the  scalp  of  a  foe  at  his  girdle.^' 

The  Indian  replied  not.  The  eyes  of  the 
old  men  turned  upon  the  Jesuit,  and,  with 
an  exclamation  of  wonder,  they  looked  to 
the  chief  of  the  war  party,  for  confirmation 
of  a  story  to  them  so  strange. 

"The  words  of  the  young  eagle  are  true," 
he  said;  "the  pale  face  bound  up  the 
wounds  of  Kiskepila;  he  saved  his  life. 
Ine  blackrobe  was  a  dove  upon  the  field  of 
battle — a  dove  among  the  eagles." 

Silence  again  ensued.  The  Jesuit, 
wrapped  in  prayer,  scarce  heeded  the  scene 
around  him ;  but  ever  and  anon  the  bright 
eye  of  Le  Loup  would  gleam  upon  him,  as, 
with  head  bent  forward,  the  Huron  listened, 
with  interest,  to  the  words  of  the  young  Mo- 
hawk chief. 


■•t^i'''?''' 


146 


PERE  JEAN. 


**  The  council  have  spoken  I "  said  Kiohba 
again,  fearful  that  a  change  might  take 
place  in  the  opinions  of  the  warriors,  some  of 
whom  seemed  to  lean  towards  the  young 
chief;  "the  council  have  spoken;  the  pale 
face  must  die.  It  is  right;  for  the  spells  of 
the  blackrobe  are  upon  the  heart  of  Kiske- 
pila;  he  has  made  a  Huron  of  the  Mo- 
hawk." 

"You  lie,  dog!"  exclaimed  the  young 
chief,  fiercely. 

"The  tongue  of  Kiohba  is  not  forked," 
said  the  other,  coldly,  feeling  the  advantage 
which  he  was  gaining,  through  the  generous 
impetuosity  of  his  opponent  "Let  the 
chiefs  look:  Kiskepila  could  not  walk  alone 
to  the  council  lodge ;  and  see !  he  stands,  as 
if  he  had  no  wounds  upon  him;  it  is  the 
spell  of  the  pale  face  medicine.  The  black- 
robe  must  die,  or  the  warriors  will  become 
women!" 

The  old  men  shook  their  heads,  as  they 
looked  upon  the  upright  and  noble  figure  of 
the  young  brave,  while  the  bandages  were 
still  fresh,  as  it  were,  upon  deep  and 
dangerous  wounds.    It  was  the  energy  of 


P£BE  JEAN. 


14T 


1 1 


of 


the  spirit,  not  of  the  flesh,  that  sustained  the 
chief.  The  eyes  of  Kiohba  gleamed  with 
joy,  as  he  saw  the  impression  he  had  mad  3. 
The  young  man  again  spoke,  but  in  a  lower 
and  sterner  tone : 

"Kiskepila  owes  the  pale  face  a  life;  he 
shall  not  die  I  Kiskepila  will  adopt  him  as 
his  brother,  in  place  of  him  who  is  dead. 
He  demands  the  pale  face  for  his  brother ! " 

Kiohba  smiled  grimly,  as  he  replied, 
pointing  to  the  old  chief:  "The  father  may 
demand  the  prisoner,  to  adopt  him  as  his 
son.  Let  the  chief  speak ;  will  he  take  to 
his  lodge  the  sorcerer,  who  has  changed  the. 
heart  of  the  young  eagle  who  was  once  the 
truest  of  the  Mohawks  ?  " 

Absorbed  in  anxious  expectation,  the 
young  brave  heeded  not  the  taunt  The  old 
man  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  raising 
his  head,  replied,  firmly: 

"  Kiskepila  was  a  warrior,  a  Mohawk. 
He  has  taken  a  Huron  heart  The  pale  face 
has  told  him  strange  tales,  and  he  has  heard. 
The  blackgown  is  a  sorcerer.  The  father  of 
Kiskepila  will  not  claim  him;  let  him  die ! " 
The  head  of  the  young  chief  sank  upon  his 
breast,  and  he  was  silent 


r^ 


i 


148 


FERE  JEAN. 


"He  must  die!"  re-echoed  Kiohba,  and, 
tauntingly,  continued :  "  he  tells  you  that 
his  God  raised  the  dead  to  life;  why  does  he 
not  call  up  the  great  Ghamplain  from  the 
tomb  to  protect  his  people?  Let  us  see 
whether  his  God  will  save  the  pale  face, 
when  the  flames  shall  glow  and  curl  around 
his  white  limbs ! " 

"You  demand  of  me  a  miracle ! "  Father 
Laval  replied  gently;  "you  call  on  my  God 
to  raise  the  dead.  He  has  done  so;  He  can 
do  it  again.  He  has  opened  the  silent  tomb, 
and  bid  the  dead  arise  and  come  forth,  glow- 
ing with  life,  and  health,  and  energy;  and 
He  has  done  this  at  the  prayer  of  His  holy 
servants.  I  am  but  His  humble  follower. 
What  right  have  you  to  demand  from  the 
God  who  made  you  a  sign  and  a  miracle  in 
testimony  ?  Yours  is  not  the  prayer  of  the 
willing;  it  is  the  scoff  of  the  hater." 

The  indignant  voice  of  the  Jesuit  ceased. 
After  a  pause  of  some  moments  an  Indian 
approached,  and  finished  painting  his  head 
and  face.  It  was  a  sign  of  final  condemna- 
tion, and  was  received  with  exultation  by 
many;  yet  there  were  not  a  few  who  began 


A 


f  I 


<lht   ;^\ 


I ': 


PERE  JEAN. 


149 


i  I 


to  entertain  an  increased  dread  of  what  they 
imagined  to  be  his  power.  But  the  feeling 
of  the  council  was  excited,  although  that  as- 
semblage still  retained  its  calm  and  grave 
aspect;  and,  with  but  little  delay,  the  novice 
and  the  Hurons  were  also  condemned  to  the 
torture.  Father  Laval,  Le  Loup  and  two 
other  Hurons  were  to  suffer  on  the  morrow, 
in  front  of  the  council  lodge,  while  Rene 
Bourdoise  and  the  three  remaining  Hurons 
were  to  be  tortured  at  the  other  village. 
The  prisoners  received  their  doom  calmly, 
the  Hurons  looking  coldly  on  the  prepara- 
tions, which  were  begun  at  onc6,  to  carry 
out  the  sentence  of  the  council,  which  then 
broke  up. 

When  Kiskepila  found  all  his  efforts 
fruitless,  he  took  the  arm  of  the  warrior, 
who  had  assisted  him  to  the  spot,  for  his 
strength  began  to  fail  very  rapidly,  and,  in 
silence,  returned  to  his  tent,  determined  not 
to  look  upon  sufferings  which  he  could 
not  prevent  or  alleviate.  Morning  Flower 
awaited  sadly  the  termination  of  the  council, 
and  wept  over  the  fate  of  the  blackgown : 
but  she  recalled  to  memory  the  beautiful 


:'^- .. 


15Q 


FERE  JEAN. 


less-ns  of  patience  which  he  had  t'liight  her, 
and  suppregsed  the  manifestation  of  her 
grief. 

The  Huron  messenger  of  Ahasistari 
struck  directly  through  the  forest  in  the 
direction  of  the  place  where  the  braves  were 
supposed  to  lie  concealed.  The  stars  were 
shining  in  the  clear  heavens,  and  an  occa- 
sional glance  at  their  sparkling  orbs  served 
to  guide  his  path.  Up  over  hill  and  steep 
ascent,  over  swamp  and  morass  went  the 
swift  Indian,  at  his  loping  trot,  tireles?, 
never  pausing.  Midnight  came,  and  the 
runner  still  pressed  on;  his  moccasined 
feet  springing  yet  lightly  from  the  soft  turf, 
as  he  bounded  on.  Darkness  melted  slowly 
into  the  gray  of  morn,  and  morning  bright- 
ened into  day,  and  yet  the  Huron  speeded  on. 
At  length  he  paused  upon  the  summit  of  a 
little  hill.  At  its  foot,  clear  and  pellucid, 
flowed  a  gentle  stream.  But  no  trace  could 
he  discover  of  any  living  thing  upon  its 
banks,  or  in  its  surrounding  forest.  A  mo- 
ment more  his  eye  scanned  the  wood,  and 
then  descended  to  the  water's  edge.  As  he 
leaned  upon  his  rifle,  he  carefully  observed 


i:.   / 


■f, 


ts 
Id 
d 


r-i 


u 


■:*  I--'; 


s.. 


TEBE  JEAN. 


151 


the  cnrrent  flowing  by  him,  till  his  gaze 
Beemed  riveted  by  a  floating  twig,  witrh  green 
leaves  upon  it  An  eddy  whirled  it  in  to- 
wards the  shore,  and  he  drew  it  towards 
him  with  the  butt  of  his  rifle.  The  fractiira 
of  the  branch  was  fresh,  and  it  was  evidently 
torn,  noc  bitten  off^  Swinging  his  rifle  into 
the  hollow  of  his  arm,  the  runner  turned 
directly  up  the  stream,  taking  care  to  leave 
no  tracks  behind  him.  For  some  time  he 
proceeded  on  his  course,  still  casting  an 
occasional  glance  at  the  forest  around  him, 
and  on  the  ground  before  him,  watching  for 
the  marks  of  a  trail.  Suddenly  he  paused, 
and  looked  intently  upon  the  ground,  and 
then  stooped  down  to  examine  this  surface 
more  closely. 
"Eughl  pale  face  I"  he  exclaimed.  -■^'^'^''H 
The  step  was  turned  from  the  stream*; 
treading  cautiously,  so  as  not  to  obliterate 
the  trail.  He  followed  it  back  to  the  water's 
edge,  and  examined  the  bushes  which  grew 
there;  they  were  of  the  same  kind  as  the 
branch  which  he  held  in  his  hand.  Falling 
into  the  trail,  he  traced  it  up  the  hill,  along 
the  summit  of  which  it  ran.    At  length  a 


152 


PEBB  JEAN. 


low  whistling  struck  upon  his  ear,  and  he 
paused  to  listen;  and  then  crept  on  more 
cautiously.  At  the  foot  of  a  large  tree,  on 
an  elevated  spot,  from  which  an  extensive 
sweep  of  the  forest,  facing  towards  the  Mo- 
hawk village,  was  visible,  sat  the  figure  of  a 
white  mauj  holding  in  his  hand  a  large, 
rough  ox-horn,  which  he  was  busily  engaged 
in  shaping  into  a  powder-horn.  Every  now 
and  then  he  compared  it  with  the  one  which 
was  slung  at  his  side,  and  then  renewed  his 
labors.  Suddenly  a  new  idea  seemed  to 
strike  him ;  and,  putting  it  to  his  mouth,  he 
gave  a  blast,  which  made  the  Huron  start 
with  surprise.  Then  he  began  at  once  to 
shape  the  small  opening  into  something  like 
a  mouth-piece.  At  last  he  seemed  satisfied, 
and  putting  it  to  his  lips,  sounded  it  again. 

"Ha!  that  will  do!"  he  said  at  length; 
"good  idea;  indian  hates  the  sound  of  a 
horn,  and  I  like  it  Well,  I  may  want  it 
soon;"  and  he  stuck  it  in  his  belt  As  he 
did  so,  the  Huron  runner  stepped  before 
him. 

"  L'Espion  Hardi ! "  The  scout  sprang  to 
his  feet,  grasping  his  rifle. 


.  < 


\ 


it 
he 


to 


•6 


FSSE  JEAN. 


153 


"Ah  I  Hnronl"  he  said,  as  his  eye  fell 
upon  the  dress  and  paint  of  the  Indian ;  and 
he  resu  "ned  his  seat  again. 

"Huron?  Yes!  No  Mohawk  I  or"— and 
the  Indian  pointed  significantly  to  his  scalp. 

"Eight,  Huron  I  I  was  making  a  powder- 
horn,  when  I  thought  of  the  trumpets  of 
Champlain,  as  he  marched  to  battle.  Ah! 
did  you  ever  fight  under  Ohamplain, 
Huron  ?  " 

"No!  the  chief  and  many  of  the  braves 
were  out!"  r 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,  Huron !  Well,  it  came 
into  my  head  to  try  how  a  good  blast  would 
eound  in  this  old  forest.  It  was  rash,  I 
won't  deny  it,"  he  continued,  as  the  Huron 
shock  his  head;  "but  a  Frenchman  loves 
the  sound  of  the  trumpet  Listen  now,"  he 
said,  applying  the  trumpet  to  his  lips  once 
more;  but  the  Indian  placed  his  hand  upon 
it  and  said : 

"Daring  scout!  Mohawk  hunter  may 
hear!"  , 

"Yes,  yes!  but  when  we  were  out  against 
the  Mohavks  with  Champlain,  he  let  them 
hear  more  of  ?t  than  they  liked."    r.  :    :      ?i* 


PEBB  JEAK. 


"Great  brave! "  said  the  runner. 

"  Yes,  he  was  a  warrior  I  It  does  me  good 
to  hear  his  name  shouted  in  a  brisk  charge; 
it  helps  wonderfully,  although  he  is  dead 
and  gone  now.  Yes,  he  was  a  man,"  con- 
tinued Piau'e,  sorrowfully;  "no  such  man 
in  all  the  province  now,  or  these  rascally 
Mohawks  would  be  taught  a  lesson  worth 
remembering," 

"The  daring  scout  is  with  the  Huron 
braves?"  asked  the  runner. 

"Yes I  and  I  suppose  you  are  the  mes- 


senger that  I  am  to  look  for  ?  "  The  runner 
nodded  his  head,  and  the  other  continued: 

"  They  are  across  the  stream ;  let  us  go ; " 
and,  swinging  his  rifle  over  his  shoulder,  the 
scout  descended  the  hill  with  rapid  strides. 
When  they  approached  the  stream,  the  run- 
ner glided  to  the  side  of  the  hunter,  and 
holding  up  the  broken  twig  before  him, 
said:  ^ 

"Daring  scout  casts  a  trail  upon  the 
water.  Huron  found  this  far  down  the 
stream." 

The  scout  looked  at  it  for  a  moment, 
while  the  runner  explained  himself;  and 


^i 


■¥■ 


'  '&r 


PEBE  JEAN. 


155 


e; 
id 
n- 
m 

ly 

th 

?S- 

er 

I 

le 

IS. 

n- 


1 


n. 


le 
le 

t, 
d 


J. 


i 


r 


r 


V.  I 


then,  half  angry  at  the  implied  reproach, 
answered : 

"  Well,  and  but  for  that  twig  you  would 
not  liave  found  us ;  you  missed  the  trail  I " 

"1  crossed  it  in  the  night,"  said  the 
Huron,  "  but  not  far  off.  Up  or  down  the 
stream,  the  Huron  would  soon  have  found 
it." 

"  Far  enough,  at  any  rate,"  said  the  scout, 
"ov  you  would  have  been  here  at  once,  with- 
out striking  on  the  stream  below.  See,  here 
is  one  of  Quickfoot's  marks  upon  this  oak; 
7ie  followed  directly  upon  the  trail,  and  even 
made  it  plainer  for  you,  by  these  gashes!" 

"Bad I"  replied  the  runner,  quickly^ 
"  Mohawk  keen  eye !  " 

"  Night  and  day,"  continued  the  scout,  we 
kept  watch,  by  turns,  upon  that  hill  which 
overlooked  the  path,  waiting  for  the  mes- 
senger, whom  Quickfoot  told  us  Ahasistari 
would  send." 

.^" Huron!"  said  Pierre,  after  walking 
some  time  in  silence,  **have  you  seen  the 
prisoners?"  .  ^^^ 

"Yes,  from  the  woods;  saw  blackgown 
walking  about," 


• 

156                           PEEE  JEAN.                             *  "  V. 

"  Well,  perhaps  then  they  won't  attempt 

to  kill  them  yet,  and  we  can  get  there  in 

time." 

The  Indian  shook  his  head,  and  said : 

"To-day    council;    to-morrow    torture; 

daring  scout  knows  how  it  is." 

% 

'I       *'Then,"   said  the  scout  sternly,  as  he 

'    strode    along     with    swifter  step,    "then, 

"'  1 

Huron,   there  will  be  at  the   dance  some 

\ 

guests  not  invited." 

\ 

They  hastened  on  in  silence,  until  they 

reached  the  place  of  concealment    It  was 

well    chosen.    In   an    extensive  thicket,  a 

space  had  been  cut  away,  and  here  the  war- 

■■ •- 

riors  were  lying  about  in  groups  upon  their 

. 

I       blankets.    Exclamations    of    delight   wel- 

.  ,■ '  ~ 

,  corned  the  scout  and  the  runner,  and  the 

',".■■, 

i 

r-      whole  body  assembled  in  council.    The  run- 

ner explained  the  condition  of  things,  and 

-  ■■  'i 

'^    delivered  the  order  of  the  chief;  and  in  a 

.    = 

few  moments  more  the  party,  nineteen  in 

• 

number,  took  up  their  line  of  march,  throw- 

"'  ,  '  ' 

•    ing  out  active  scouts  in  advance,  to  guard 

I 

against  any  accidental  meeting    with   the 

V 

# 

Mohawks.                 v 

'    -                                                                                       .■-■■/'■■        -^■;.V     .,    '    P  ^                ^ 

;    7    ,-...-     -■           ■,                                "    "      v'  '   .               -*■■■■       ^  v^. ■■-■>►-■  ■-i-f.--    .          i 

1 

> 

^^ .;;;_:/  "  ■;-,  , .    •■■v, '■-.;_,  .;■  ' 

PIRE  JEAN. 


157 


'fr:^,rrU 


.-'♦.,' 


r 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE     TORTURE. 


MMEDIATELY  after  the  breaking 
up  of  the  council,  the  Mohawks 
began  their  preDarations  for  the 
coming  festival.  Four  stakes  were 
planted  in  front  of  the  lodge,  and  piles 
of  fagots  were  gathered  in  the  forest  At  a 
little  distance  beyond  the  first,  four  other 
stakes  were  placed,  to  which  the  prisoners, 
whose  fate  was  postponed,  were  to  be  bound, 
that  they  might  witness  the  agony  of  their 
brethren,  and  suffer  themselves  in  anticipa- 
tion. The  youths  of  the  village  now  com- 
menced to  gather  about  the  lodge,  in  order 
to  enjoy  the  preliminary  torture,  which  was 
permitted  them  for  their  own  especial  amuse- 
ment, and  to  practice  them  in  the  ways  of 
cruelty.  This  sometimes  endured  until 
taken  part  in  by  the  braves,  when  it  did  not 
cease  until  death  brought  relief  to  the 
victim.  Le  Loup  and  Father  Laval  were 
brought  forth  and  tied  to  two  of  the  stakes. 


\ 


I 


mm 


158 


FERE  JEAN. 


t 
i 
il 


tv. 


r.  It 


and  the  clamorous  mob  hovered  around  them, 
pelting  and  annoying  them  in  a  thousand 
ingenious  modes  of  petty  torture.  They 
soon,  however,  became  more  systematic,  and, 
drawing  off  to  a  little  distance,  practiced 
upon  their  living  target?  with  the  bow  and 
arrow,  and  the  tomaha\»  k.  Le  Loup  stood 
up  with  the  proud  and  fearless  bearing  of 
the  warrior,  his  steady  eye  gleaming  un- 
moved upon  the  flashing  weapon,  as,  hurled 
from  the  skilful  hand,  it  grazed  his  temple, 
and  sank  quivering  into  the  post  behind  him. 
Another  and  another  threw ;  it  was  a  desper- 
ate game,  in  which  the  winner  was  he  who 
came  nearest  to  death  without  touching  life. 
Father  Laval  endured  with  the  meekness 
and  patience  of  the  martyr;  his  eyes  upturned 
to  heaven,  he  dared  not  look  upon  the  hand 
that  threw  the  coming  weapon.  Kiohba,  the 
Mohawk,  stretched  out  upon  the  soft  turf, 
watched  the  youthful  tormenters  with  quiet 
enjoyment,  occasionally  suggesting  to  them 
some  new  mode  of  increasing  the  sufferings 
of  the  victims.  At  length,  as  his  appetite 
for  cruelty  became  excited,  he  arose,  and, 
seizing  one  of  the  tomahaw^ks,  drew  back 


\: 


P£BE  JEAN. 


159 


n 


unci  hurled  it  at  the  Jesuit  The  weapon 
whistled  through  the  air,  and  struck  the 
post  by  his  temple,  driving  a  lock  of  his  hair 
iuto  the  wood.  A  shout  of  delight  arose 
from  the  crowd  at  this  evidence  of  skill, 
and  Kiohba,  raising  another  wjapon,  aimed 
a  second  time  at  the  priest.  It  struck  upon 
the  other  side  as  truly  as  the  first,  and  the 
victim  stood  drawn  back  to  the  post  by  his 
own  hair.  Renewed  applause  I  roke  from 
the  youths,  and  each  one  en  icavored  to 
emulate  the  Fldll  of  th  warrior.  After 
some  time  they  grew  tii  jd  of  their  sport, 
and  the  prisoners  were  permitted  for  awhile 
to  remain  unmolested. 

As  the  crowd  drew  away  from  the  spot, 
the  figure  of  a  maiden  glided  silently  to  the 
side  of  the  Jesuit,  and,  offering  a  cooling 
draught  to  his  parched  lips,  bathed  his 
brow,  which  the  intense  excitement  had 
caused  to  throb  >' itli  feverish  pain. 

"Stranger  from  ovcb  the  far  waters.  Morn- 
ing Flower  thought  once  to  avenge  upon 
thee  the  wounds  of  the  Young  Eagle.  But 
blackgown  has  pardoned  the  wrongs  of  the 
Mohawk  girl.    Thou  hast  told  us  of  the 


Pi 


160 


FERE  JEAN. 


glory  of  forgiving  and  loving  our  enemies — 
Tulhasaga,  thou  art  the  enemy  of  the  Mo- 
hawks, but  Morning  Flower  doth  not  hate 
thee." 

"Heaven  bless  thee,  my  child,  and  lead 
thee,  through  the  merits  of  Him  who  died 
upon  the  cross,  to  the  way  of  salvation,  pre- 
serving thee  from  trials  and  sufferings,"  said 
the  Jesuit  sadly,  but  fervently. 

The  Indian  girl  placed  herself  upon  the 
grass,  and  looked  up  into  his  face  affection- 
ately, as  if  to  a  father,  and  said,  as  she 
caught  the  mournful  expression  upon  the 
countenance  of  the  priest : 

"  Blackgown,  thou  hast  told  me  that  each 
one  shall  bear  his  cross,  as  the  Saviour,  of 
whom  thou  speakest,  bore  His.  Blackgown, 
thou  art  bound  unto  thy  cross  I " 

In  a  moment,  the  sad  expression  passed 
from  the  features  of  the  Jesuit,  and,  with  a 
holy  enthusiasm,  he  exclaimed: 

"Oh  God  I  in  the  midst  of  sorrow  and 
tribulation,  thou  dost  send  down  consola- 
tions unspeakable  to  thy  servant;  by  the 
mouth  of  this  wild  maiden,  thou  hast  uttered 
to  me  words  of  sweet  and  saving  import; 


■,y-- 


P£RE  JEAN. 


161 


::'^'\^ 


\ 


n'- 


\ 


thou  hast  strengthened  me;  thou  hast  con- 
soled. Oh !  how  happy  to  bear  my  cross,  to 
suffer — to  suffer  for  thy  snke!  Gentle 
maiden — woman  still  I  woman  who  did  not 
shrink  from  the  cross  and  its  ignominy, 
from  the  shouts  and  curses  of  the  crucifier! 
woman,  still  the  faithful  and  the  pure,  and 
the  unswerving!  woman,  the  holy,  holy  from 
the  holiness  of  the  stainless  mother,  pure 
from  the  purity  of  the  immaculate,  gentlest 
of  God's  creatures — it  was  given  to  thee  to 
be  the  angel  of  mercy  and  the  comforter  of 
the  afflicted.  Kind  maiden,  thou  hast 
soothed  the  sad  spirit ;  may  the  mother  most 
pure,  the  ennobler  of  thy  stT^  the  ever  virgin, 
intercede  for  thee." 

And  then  the  spirit  of  the  captive  seemed 
wrapt  in  meditation,  and  he  stood,  with  eyes 
cast  upwards,  and  lips  moving  stilly.  A 
holy  and  tranquil  glow  crept  softly  over  the 
face  of  him  who  awaited,  a  death  of  horrible 
torture.  Sweetly  it  grew  upon  that  counte- 
nance, the  beam  of  prayer,  and  hope,  and 
joy,  spreading  from  feature  to  feature,  till 
nothing  of  earth  was  left.  Upwards,  up- 
wards soared  the  soul  upon  the  wings  of 


,'■  r 


162 


PERB  JEAN. 


"^^,1. 


love ;  upwards  until  it  seemed  already  to  be 
mingling  its  whispered  orisons  with  the 
seraphic  choir.  Hast  thou  looked  upon  the 
sunlight  ^stealing  gently  o'er  a  shadowed 
spot?  Hast  thou  marked  the  sombre  cloud 
disperse,  until  nothing  but  the  glad  skies 
looked  down  upon  thee?  Hast  thou 
watched  the  shrouding  mist  vanish,  or  the 
pale  hue  of  sickness  brighten  into  the  red 
glow  of  health  ?  Thus  fled  sorrow  and  sad- 
ness from  the  captive's  face. 

The  untutored  maiden  looked  in  wonder 
on  the  change  wrought,  as  it  were,  by  one 
unconscious  word.  Here  she  sat,  looking 
fondly  up  to  that  glorious,  heavenly  face, 
catching  from  its  pure  inirror  a  reflection  of 
iic»ly  thought  Unconscious  the  Jesuit 
stood,  visions  of  bliss  hovered  around  him ; 
the  gentle  zephyr  that  fanned  his  cheek 
S3emed  beaten  on  by  the  wings  of  seraphs; 
joyous  songs  broke  upon  his  ear,  and  clouds 
of  incense  floated  sweetly  over  his  wrapt 
denses.  Death  and  torture  were  before  him, 
but  heaven  was  above  him;  could  he  look 
downwards  to  the  earth  and  its  fleeting  tor- 
ments ?    0  wonderful  mission  of  Christian- 


s  .^, 


be 
ihe 
iho 
reel 
lud 
:ies 
jon 
the 
red 
ad- 
der 
)ne 
ing 
ice, 
of 
nit 
m; 
eek 
hs; 
Lids 
apt 
ini, 
3ok 
;or- 
an- 


vvl. 


J 


PEBE  JEAN. 


163 


ity!  that  which  came  upon  earth  to  raise 
man  far  above  the  very  sublimest  idea  of  the 
heathen  God,  to  inspire  him  with  thought 
above  the  power  of  mortality,  to  give  him  a 
life  which  death  could  not  extinguish — a 
life  beyond  and  above  Lhis  earth — a  ray  of 
the  Spirit  of  God,  Still  unmoved  the  Jesuit 
stood,  his  head  thrown  back  and  resting 
upon  the  stake,  his  body  supported  by  the 
cords  which  bound  him,  every  function 
slumbering,  every  energy  absorbed.  He 
was  in  truth  only  an  imprisoned  soul.  Wel- 
come the  knife,  welcome  the  torture,  wel- 
come death  by  fire,  by  steel,  by  slow  delay, 
for  the  spirit  is  away  upon  its  wings, 
already  soaring  in  pre-enjoyment  with  the 
blessed.  What  are  a  few  short  hours  of 
suffering  to  the  eternity  of  such  bliss  ?  Oh 
yesl  now  welcome  death;  for  thpu  canst 
only  be  the  usher  of  eternal  life! 

Like  the  shadow,  when  the  sunbeam  Jias 

passed,   came  back   the  thought   of  earth 

to  the  soul  of  the  priest    A  deep  sigh  broke 

from  his  half  closed  lips : 

"How  long!  0  Lord  I  how  long!" 

Awe-stricken     sat    the    simple    Indian 


Tl 


164 


FERE  JEAN. 


maiden,  as  she  gazed  upon  that  countenance 
effulgent  with  ineffable  happiness,  glowing 
with  unearthly  beauty.  With  parted  lips 
and  fixed  eye,  she  gazed  reverently — for 
woman,  blessed  as  the  instrument  of  the 
great  blessing  to  man,  catches  intuitiyely  the 
beam  of  heaven's  light  and  reflects  it  in  hnr 
soul.  ■•''  ■■•i"^"  :>.-=-> 

"  Mary—! "  exclaimed  the  Jesuit,  and  the 
broken  aspiration  w^  finished  unheard. 

"  Mary  1 "  repeated  the  Indian  maiden,  in 
her  soft  and  musical  accents.  "Mary!" 
There  was  prayer  in  that  whispered  word — 
prayer  of  the  soul — and  it  arose  from  the 
wild  heart  of  the  untutored  Indian— from 
the  soul  of  the  ecstatic  priest — "  Mary! " 

At  that  moment,  came  swelling  from  the 
prison  house  of  the  captive  Hurons,  the 
sound  of  a  Christian  hymn.  From  deep 
stern  voices  came  it,  but  the  melody  was  sad 
and  plaintive,  and  varied  with  the  varying 
measure  of  the  rude,  unpolished  verse. 


V 


Hear  motlier,  hear ! 
Hear,  queen  of  the  bright  and  blessed ! 

Now  that  death  is  near, 
The  prayer  to  thee  addressed !      ^  : 


■'i 


■•;r 


'if  •■;• 


\ 


P£RE  JEAN. 


1G5 


m 


\ 


\ 


Hear,  for  the  day  is  flying,  ^-:i--:^-'y'i-.-.i^ 

And  thy  poor  children,  sighing. 
Beseech  thy  aid  in  dying.  « 

'    .  Hear  mother,  hear  1 

"     '        Mother  of  mercy,  hear!  .5.^ 

The  sun  on  earth  is  sinliing ; 

With  mingled  hope  and  fear. 
Thy  children's  hearts  are  shrinking ; 
Mother,  heed  the  suflfering  child, 
!]'*■  -::    Beaten,  wounded,  bruised,  reviled, 
/       Tortured  in  the  forest  wild.  ^t 

Mother,  mother  hear  1 

.         '     Mother,  by  his  blood  I  ^^       ': 

Mother,  by  thy  tears  and  sorrow. 

By  the  earth's  redeeming  wood, 
Aid  us  in  our  strife  to-morrow  1  ;       - 

Win  from  thy  all  conquering  Son, 
By  the  triumph  he  has  won, 
Grace  and  strength  to  gain  our  own. 
Mother,  mother  hear ! 

Softly  hushed  the  sornd  of  prayer,  and  | 
the  notes  died  away,  buj  the  still  form  of  the 
Indian  girl  scarce  moved — waiting  for  the 
deep-toned  music  to  awake  again.  It  came 
not,  and  she  murmured  in  the  air,  "  Mother, 
mother  hear  I " 

The  haughty  bearing   of  Le    T  r>up  had  , 


1.^ 


Ill 

all 

if 

III 


! 


I 


il  ill 


iiii 


166 


PEBE   JEAN. 


passed  away;  the  keen  eye,  that  bad  gazed 
uiiinoved  upon  the  flashing  touiahawk,  was 
dimmed  and  softened ;  his  liead  rested  itpoA 
his  breast.  He  was  wrapl  in  prayer,  iie 
was  the  savago  warrior  no  louger,  but  the 
Christinn. 

At  length,  from  tlii;  cormcil  loJge  oam3 
fahitly  swelling  the  voice  of  t''3  young 
no  \  Ice,  and  alternately  respon^l mg  the  lull 
chorus  of  the  Harons.  They  were  reciting 
ihv  iifcaay.  Sadly  struck  the  tones  of  his 
young  companion's  voice  upon  the  ear  of  the 
Jesuit.  They  were  weak  and  tremulous. 
Morning  Flower  listened — was  it  the  war- 
rior's death  song?  Never  before,  in  the  vil- 
lages of  her  tribe,  had  such  chant  been  raised 
by  those  who  were  about  to  die.  The 
Jesuit  and  Le  Loup  joined  in  the  responses, 
and  the  solemn  "  Miserere  mhis  " .  rose  dis- 
tinct and  clear.  The  maiden  hung  in  wrapt 
attention  on  the  alternate  sounds  of  many 
voices  mingling  in  heartfelt  prayer.  Thus 
passed  the  autumn  sunset;.  -'    -  ^ 

Ahasistari  sat  alone  in  his  rocky  hiding 
place.  Ever  and  anon  he  cast  a  meaning 
glance  towards  the  west,  ^v;  eie  the  sky  was 


ing 


,..  V 


t 


f' 


K    I 


FERE  JEAN. 


167 


yet  tinged  with  gold,  although  the  orb  of 
day  had  disappeared.  Then  he  rested  his 
head  upon  his  knees  and  remained  im- 
movable. His  rifle  lay  at  his  feet,  and  his 
remaining  arms  upon  it,  as  if  he  had  just 
been  preparing  them  carefully  for  immediate 
use.  Twilight  came,  still  the  chief  moved 
not.  At  length  he  arose,  and  approaching 
the  entrance  of  the  cavern,  looked  out  upon 
the  forest,  listening  intently  for  some  wel- 
come sound — ^nothing  struck  upon  his  ear 
save  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  and  the  low 
swinging  of  the  overhanging  branches. 
There  was  silence  in  the  vast  forest;  the  hum 
of  the  little  insect,  as  it  uttered  its  evening 
prayer,  was  the  only  sound  of  living  thing 
that  broke  upon  the  solitude.  For  a  mo- 
ment it  seemed  that  a  shadow  of  doubt 
passed  across  the  brow  of  the  warrior.  Ic 
occurred  to  him  that  his  party  might  have 
been  cut  off.  He  could  not  doubt  but  that 
Watook  had  collected  a  force  and  followed  in 
pursuit;  and  that  Quickfoot,  his  first  mes- 
senger, had  fallen  in  with  them,  as  other- 
wise the  sagacioub  Huron  would  have  re- 
iiirned  days  ago,  to  share  the  fortunes  of  his 


i 


168 


PEBE  JEAN. 


chief.  Perhaps  his  last  messenger  had 
missed  the  trail  in  the  forest,  and  for  a  time 
the  chief  almost  regretted  that  he  had 
not  dared  the  risk  consequent  upon  the  con- 
cealment of  so  many  men  near  the  village, 
accompanied,  as  it  was,  with  the  advantage 
of  their  proximity  in  case  a  sudden  oppor- 
tunity of  rescue  presented  itself;  It  was 
already  time  that  the  party  should  have 
reached  the  place  of  hib  concealment  which 
he  had  designated  as  the  point  of  rendezvous. 
But  hours  might  yet  elapse  before  the 
torture  v.ould  begin,  for  although  he  did  not 
know  ohe  exact  result  of  the  councirs  deliber- 
ations, he  felt  that  there  was  little  doubt  of 
th- condemnation  of  Father  Laval,  and  the 
other  prisoners;  and  that  their  iives  hang 
upon  a  thre'id  liable  to  be  broken  at  any 
moment  by  the  whim  or  capriro  of  the  sav- 
ages. As  he  cast  his  eye  around,  indistinctly 
it  caught  the  radiance  of  a  stream  of  light 
illuminating  the  mist  that  hung  above  the 
village.  Taking  up  his  arms  he  descended 
to  the  forest  below,  and  a  few  moments'  walk 
brought  him  to  a  place  whence  he  could 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  lodges,  and  at  the 


i  ■'  J  ■_; .  ■"  ^A  -  '     '•,''  -'■^'    •'"■*> 


\ 


^ 


4'/ 


:'\i 


i 


PEBB  JEAN. 


169 


same  time  be  near  the  path  to  the  rendezvous. 
The  glare  of  a  large  fire  flashed  up  towards 
the  darkening  sky,  and  tinged  with  red  the 
waving  branches  of  the  forest.  Two  figures 
were  still  bound  to  the  stakes,  and  groups  of 
boys  and  men  were  loitering  about,  seem- 
ingly awaiting  some  approaching  event. 

"  The  ilurons  must  speed  on,  or  they  will 
come  too  late,"  exclaimed  Ahasistari  bitterly, 
as  he  stretched  himself  upon  the  ground.  ^-" 

The  fire  flashed  out  more  brightly  now, 
for  some  hand  had  cast  more  fuel  on  it ;  and 
the  light  of  the  flame  played  around  the 
mild  face  of  the  Jesuit  as  he  stood  bound  to 
the  stake.  His  high,  bold  for  ^head  seemed 
to  catch  the  floating  beams,  whic^  "ngered 
round  it,,  like  a  saintly  halo  of  couiiug  glory. 
Ahasistari  recognized  the  form  of  Father 
Laval,  even  at  that  distance,  and,  looking  for 
a  moment  in  silence,  exclaimed : 

'•'They  will  come  too  late!  there  will  be 
one  more  stake  and  one  more  torture !  My 
father,  I  swear  to  thee  that  /  '  '.stari  will 
share  thy  fortunes,  whether  of  death  or  life  I  ** 
and  he  arose  and  turned  towards  the  village. 
Suddenly  he  paused,  and  cast  his  eyes  to  the 


170 


PERE  JEAN. 


uortheiiRf  ns  if  ho  would  penetrate  the  dark 
veil  uia  .rirr^ilched  before  him;  then  he  laid 
111  J  eiii  to  the  very  ground  and  listened.  At 
length,  casting  his  rifle  upon  the  sod,  he  sat 
down,  and,  shrouding  his  face  in  his  hands, 
remained  still  n,n ''       'ionless  as  a  statue. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  Mohawks  were  about 
to  anticipate  the  hour  of  final  torture.  The 
prisoners  were  brought  out,  one  by  one,  and 
bound  to  the  stakes  until  the  eight  were 
occupied.  The  crowd  began  to  increase,  and 
new  fires  were  raised.  The  women  gathered 
the  fagots  nearer.  Father  Laval  looked 
sadly  upon  these  preparations.-  but  the 
Huron,  Le  Loup,  perceiving  what  was  pass- 
ing in  his  mind,  said  in  broken  French : 

**Not  yet,  my  father,  not  yet.  The  Mo- 
hawk is  not  so  merciful  I  he  loves  hours  of 
torture ! »'  '     - 

"  Oh  God !  giv  3  us  grace  to  die  worthily! " 
exciuimed  the  Jesuit,  and  then  resumed  his 
silent  prayer. 

Darkness  was  i.^epening,  but  the  lights  of 
the  blazing  fires  rr.,hed  up  fitfully  to  heaven, 
casting  a  yqO  ^leam  upon  the  scene  around, 
and  ihaking   ..e  f  rocious  Mohawks,  as  they 


nil  11 

IDI'I 


FSE£  JEAN. 


171 


flitted  about  in  their  fell  work,  resemble  so 
many  fiends  at  their  infernal  orgies.  The 
prisoners  were  stripped  of  their  clothing, 
and  the  work  of  torture  began.  Snatching 
up  burning  pieces  of  wood,  the  savages  held 
them  close  to  the  naked  skin  until  its  surface 
blister jd  with  the  slow  heat;  then,  as  the 
swollen  part  became  dead  and  senseless  to 
the  lesser  torture,  they  pressed  the  live  coal 
intt  the  raw  flesh  until  it  hissed,  and  fumed, 
and  cracked,  while  the  groan  of  intense 
agony  arose  from  the  lips  of  the  white 
sufferers.  The  stern  Indian  endured  in 
silence.  Father  Laval,  as  the  red  cinders 
pierced  his  flesh,  elevated  his  soul  to  God, 
and  dwelt  upon  the  sufiferings  of  Him  whose 
brow  had  borne  a  crown  of  thorns,  whose 
hands  and  feet  had  been  torn  with  nails, 
whose  precious  side  had  been  opened  with  a 
spear.  "  Jesus,  Mary  and  Joseph,"  were  ever 
on  his  lips,  and  his  upraised  spirit  seemed  at 
last  to  forsake  and  leave  behind  it  the  sorrow 
and  sufferings  of  earth ;  and  to  float  already 
upwards  through  a  sea  of  ineffable  delights. 
Rene  Bourdoise,  reserved  for  future  death, 
did  not  escape  from  present  torture.    His 


172 


PERE  JEAN. 


•:» 


tormenters  surrounded  him,  and  forced  into 
his  tender  skin  small  splinters  of  pitch  pine, 
and,  when  a  number  had  been  pressed  in 
thus,  they  applied  blazing  torches  to  the 
parts  which  obtruded,  and  the  dark  flame 
ran  swiftly,  from  one  to  another,  along  the 
bristling  surface,  until  it  became  a  mass  of 
fire.  In  vain  the  suffering  youth  struggled 
to  escape;  his  bands  only  permitted  him  to 
wind  round  and  round  the  stake;  but, 
whichever  way  he  turned,  blows  met  him,  or 
blazing  knots  of  pine.  Thus  eight  victims 
suffered — ten  thousand  deaths  were  they  en- 
durin^t)  and  yet  so  skillful  is  the  Indian  in 
his  torture  that  death  itself  could  not  relieve 
them.  The  novice,  weak  from  his  long 
fatigues,  yet  sore  from  former  wounds  and 
sufferings,  at  length  became  exhausted,  and 
hung  supported  by  his  bands  alone.  .  Father 
Laval,  moaning  in  the  midst  of  his  torturers 
around  the  stake,  began  to  pray  aloud: 

"The  pale  face  warrior  sings  his  death 
song,"  said,  Kiohba,  "how  many  warriors 
hath  he  slain?  How  many  scalps  has  he 
taken  ?  He  is  a  woman !  a  slave  I  a  dog  I " 
and  the  shouts  of  the  infuriated  mob 
drowned  the  voice  of  the  priest 


m 

iHl! 


.    ^f     .\ 


■  *^.- 


'      •  .< 


M 


. 


i' 


:  i'-. 


TERS  J£AN. 


173 


■f- 


Iq  the  tent  of  Kiodego,  the  chief,  sat  a 
woHnded  man,  faint  and  weak ;  his  form  re- 
clined against  a  pile  af  furs,  his  hands 
covered  his  face,  his  breathing  was  deep  and 
stern,  but  there  was  no  other  mark  of  life 
about  him.  At  his  feet  sat  an  Indian 
maiden — Morning  Flower  was  weeping  I 

Still  on  rang  the  furious  shout  of  the 
wild  savage — on  went  the  fearful  torture— 
the  fiendish  dance  went  on.  But  loudest  of 
all  arose  above  the  tumult  the  shrill  voices 
of  the  beldames  as  they  gathered  around  Le 
Loup.  The  Indian  heeded  them  not;  ho 
was  preparing  himself  to  die.  Then  for  a 
time  it  seemed  as  if  the  frenzy  of  the 
Mohawks  was  4ying  away,  but  it  soon  broke 
out  in  renewed  fury,  and  the  various  crowds 
drew  off  to  hurl  the  tomahawk. 

"See,"  said  Kiohba,  "how  a  brave  can 
strike  I  "  and  he  repeated  the  feat  of  skill  he 
had  before  performed.  With  a  laugh  of 
scorn,  another  Mohawk  stepped  forth,  and, 
brandishing  his  weapon,  exclaimed : 

"You  have  grazed  his  head,  I  will  drive 
the  ears  of  the  blackgown  into  the  stake," 

The  Mohawk  aimed  at  Father  Laval,  who 


•  V 


't 


•1 


■t- 


// 


i>iln ' 


t  M 


■Si 


174 


PEBE  JEAN. 


gazed  upon  him  almost  unconsciously.  The 
moment  was  one  of  deep  peril;  no  matter 
how  skillful  the  aim,  a  sudden  motion  of  the 

• 

victim,  an  involuntary  start  would,  instead  of 
mutilation,  bring  death.  Ifc  was  a  feat  of 
nice  and  precise  skill,  and  the  Mohawk 
measured  his  distance  carefully,  and  drew 
back  his  arm.    ...-;..  >^  ,f!      ...i,   ....       .:.. 

Suddenly  the  peal  of  a  rifle  broke  upon  the 
air,  and  then  another  and  another,  in  quick 
succession,  flashed  from  the  foreist,  and  a 
wild  and  exulting  shout  broke  out.  Down 
came  the  fierce  Mohawk — another  and 
another  fell— whilst  the  whole  northern 
circle  of  the  forest  seemed  blazing  with  con- 
tinuous flashes.  Hushed  was  the  voice  of 
the  warrior — mute  the  shrill  tongue  of 
woman — terror-stricken,  they  clustered  to- 
gether. Their  rifles,  and  bows,  and  arrows 
were  in  their  cabins ;  there  was  a  scattering 
in  wild  affright  to  obtain  their  arms;  one 
figure  alone  sprang  towards  the  bound 
prisoners,  tomahawk  in  hand. 

Over  the  wild  peal  of  battle  rose  the  firm 
voice  of  Ahasistari,  and  the  Hurons  sprang 
out  from  their  covers  to  thecliargc,  to  strike 


■'  V 


S5,  . 


PEBE  JEAN. 


175 


tlie  effective  blow  belbre  the  Mohawks  could 
rally.  Out  from  the  impenetrable  darkness 
bounded  these  dusky  figures,  rushing  on, 
with  wild  and  exulting  shouts,  to  cut  off  the 
entrance  to  the  cabins;  one,  a  lithe  and 
youthful  form,  shaking  fiercely  over  his 
head  his  small  steel  axe,  leaped  forward  to 
the  prisoners.  Watook  was  rushing  to  the 
rescue. 

Kiohba  pressed  on  in  his  fell  purpose.  He 
reached  the  side  of  the  nowce,  he  w€>und  his 
hand  in  his  long  hair,  he  bent  back  his  head, 
and,  glaring  fiendishly  into  his  face,  he 
seemed  to  make  him  die  by  slow  and  fearful 
agony;  then  his  weapon  flashed  above  him, 
and  came  down  with  a  sullen  crash,  and  the 
form  of  the  poor  novice  sank  lifeless,  sup- 
ported by  the  withes  that  bound  him  to  the 
stake,  Kiohba  unwound  his  hand  from  his 
locks,  and  tore  the  scalp  from  his  mangled 
brow;  then  he  turned  towards  the  Jesuit 
Le  Loup  struggled  to  burst  his  bands,  but 
his  iron  strength  would  not  avail  him;  in 
helpless  agony  he  had  looked  on.  At  that 
moment  a  well-known  voice  was  in  his  ear ; 
a  single  heavy  stroke  severed  the  cord  that 


\ 


17^ 


FEBE  JEAN. 


bound  him,  and  the  tall  Huron,  tossing  up 
his  arms  to  heaven,  as  if  glorying  in  the 
thought  of  freedom,  once  again  sprang  on  to 
the  rescue.  The  fierce  Mohawk  was  already 
by  the  side  of  the  priest;  his  arm  was  out- 
stretched to  aim  the  fatal  blow,  when  Le 
Loup,  like  a  wolf  upon  his  prey,  bounded  on 
him.  Down  came  the  two  powerful  savages 
— the  armed  and  the  unarmed — but  life  and 
retribution  nerved  the  heart  of  the  Huron, 
and  strung  his  sinews.  The  weapon  of 
Kiohba  was  dashed  from  his  grasp  as  he  fell 
to  the  earth,  and  he  sought  for  the  knife  in 
his  girdle.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  doubtful 
which  would  conquer.  Over  and  over,  the 
two  rolled  swiftly  upon  the  ground.  .U 
length  the  hand  of  Le  Loup  rest/ed  upon  the 
knife  of  his  foe;  in  a  moment  more  it 
gleamed  in  the  light,  and  was  buried  in  the 
heart  of  the  Mohawk.  The  strong  grasp  of 
Kiohba  relaxed,  and,  casting  off  his  nerveless 
hand,  the  Huron  arose  from  the  fearful 
struggle.  So  rapid  had  it  been  that  the  last 
prisoner  was  just  released. 

Father  Laval  cast  himself  upon  his  knees 
in  prayer,  while  the  Hurons  caught  up  what 


V 


f-- 


^ 


PERE   JEAN. 


177 


arms  thiey  could  find,  and,  headed  by  Le 
Loup,  dashed  on  towards  the  spot  where 
Ahasistari  and  his  followers  were  contendmg 
with  superior  numbers.  The  blaze  of  the 
fires  cast  a  fearful  light  upon  the  battle 
scene,  seeming  to  double  the  numbers  of  the 
combatants,  and  to  swell  their  forms  into 
gigantic  size.  The  powerful  Mohawks  were 
rushing  towards  their  eabins  for  their  arms; 
the  chief  of  the  Hurons  intercepted  them. 
The  first  attempted  to  close  with  him,  but  a 
single  bloT  of  the  tomahav/k  stretched  him 
lifeless  at  his  feet;  the  second  was  upon  him 
before  he  could  recover  from  his  effort,  and 
aimed  a  stroke  at  his  head.  The  Huron 
warded  it  skill  fully,  and  they  closed.  The 
struggle  was  terrific,  but  was  short,  and 
Ahasistari,  as  he  quitted  the  dead  body  of 
the  Mohawk,  cast  a  glance  upon  the  scene  of 
battle. 

Fearful  had  been  the  first  onslaught  of  the 
Hurons.  They  had  met  their  foes;  as  in 
panic,  they  broke  away  towards  their  wig- 
wams, and,  by  the  fury  of  their  assault,  had 
driven  them  back  to  the  open  space.  Here 
they  began  to  rally  and  to  fight  with  some- 


^ft 


I .  ■ 


178 


TBRE   JEAN. 


thing  of  their  accustomed  bravery.  An  In- 
dian, taken  by  surprise,  can  seldom  recover, 
and  the  Mohawks  waged  an  unequal  battle 
with  their  fierce  and  determined  assailants ; 
but  for  their  superior  numbers,  the  rout 
would  have  been  instantaneous  and  terrific. 
They  began  to  rally ;  tht  women,  and  chil- 
dren, and  old  men  appealed  upon  the  scene, 
the  women  bearing  the  rifles,  and  the  bows 
and  arrows  of  the  warriors.  With  renewed 
energy  the  Mohawks  fought,  armed  as  they 
were,  with  tomahawks  and  clubs ;  scarcely  a 
shot  pealed  upon  the  air,  and,  in  the  stern 
battle  of  man  to  man,  no  cry  broke  forth. 
Suddenly  upon  the  stillness  came  the  loud 
blast  of  a  horn  from  the  southern  portion  of 
the  forest,  echoing  and  re-echoing  in  the 
hills  to  the  north;  then  a  terrific  shout,  and, 
high  above  flie  rest,  the  battle  cry — **  Oham- 
plain  a  no  as !  Ohamplain ! " 

Sweeping  down  the  sward  rushed  a  band 
of  dark  figures  that  seemed,  in  the  flickering 
light,  of  countless  numbers,  while  the  loud 
and  deafening  blast  of  the  horn  still  rang  on, 
and  ever,  as  it  paused,  the  battle  cry,  "  Cham- 
pi  air  !  Cham  plain ! "  broke  out. 


\ 


I .  •  ■ 


,/ 


PEBE  JEAN. 


179 


The  Mohawk  warriors  stood  aghast.  Had 
the  dead  really  arisen?  Had  the  great 
medicine  accepted  their  challenge,  and  called 
the  mighty  warrior  from  his  tomb  to  the 
rescue?  Was  it  a  ghastly  troop,  with 
horrible  sounds  of  unearthly  import,  that 
came  upon  them?  Their  arms  dropped 
nerveless,  and  they  paused  in  their  onslaught 
— whilst  the  Hurons  renewed  their  exulting 
cries,  and  charged  once  more  upon  them. 
The  fire  now  gleamed  out  fiercely,  stirred  by 
a  passing  breath  of  wind,  and  the  fitful  light 
discovered  to  the  Lightened  Mohawks  the 
face  and  form  of  a  white  man  bounding  for- 
ward, and  waving  his  glistening  blade  above 
his  head. 

**Champlain!  Champlain!  Mohawk 
dogs!"  shouted  the  figure  in  the  Iroquois 
tongue,  as  he  dashed  into  their  midst, 
striking  down  the  first  he  met  with  his  long 
and  curved  knife. 

"The  dead!  the  dead!  Champlain!"  ex- 
claimed the  paralyzed  Mohawks,  and  broke 
away  from  the  field  of  battle.  Women  and 
children,  old  men  and  warriors,  mindful  of 
the  scenes  of  ihe  council,   fled  wildly  off, 


I 


180 


PEUE  JEAN. 


// 


veiling  their  eyes  from  him  whom  they  be- 
lieved to  have  arisen  from  the  tomb :  still  in 
their  ears  rang  the  cry  of  "OhamplainI 
Champlain! "  and  the  relentless  Frenchman, 
with  his  band,  smiting  right  and  left,  pur- 
sued them.  Terror  lent  wings  to  their 
speed,  and  they  scattered  deep  in  the  forest 
By  the  homes  of  their  early  years— by  the 
council  fire,  where  their  fathers  had  sat — 
upon  the  turf  where,  in  chiklhood's  hours 
they  had  sported — still  gathered  a  stern  band 
of  veteran  Mohawks.  They  were  few  in 
number — fewer  than  their  foes — but  they 
were  true  and  unyielding  braves.  For  a  mo- 
ment, when  the  rout  began,  the  battle  had 
ceased;  and  the  two  parties  now  stood 
gazing  at  one  another  in  fierce  defiance. 
The  Mohawks  were  armed  with  no  weapons 
but  those  of  a  hand-to-hand  fight — and  Aha- 
sistari  casting  aside  his  rifle  with  a  noble 
generosity,  sprang  forward  to  meet  his  foe 
upon  an  equality  of  arms.  Knife  in  hand  he 
grappled  with  a  warrior;  his  Hurons  fol- 
lowed his  example,  and  for  a  moment  there 
was  seen  a  struggling  crowd  of  indistinguish- 
able figures;  here  and  there,  with  a  con- 


.-i 


I 


PERE  JEAN. 


181 


vulsive  spring,  some  form  would  cease  its 
motion,  and  lie  still  and  silent  as  the  sod  it 
pressed.  The  rest  still  struggled  on.  At 
length,  from  out  the  mele  crept  an  unarmed 
savage,  wounded,  coiling  himself  slowly 
along  the  ground  as  if  in  dying  agony.  He 
readied  the  corner  of  the  lodge,  and  passing 
behind  its  shadow,  sprang  quickly  to  his 
feet.  His  eye  fell  upon  the  kneeling  figure 
of  Father  Laval  as  he  bent  him  over  a  dying 
Huron,  and  tearing  off  a  portion  of  his  belt, 
he  stole  quietly  behind  him.  In  a  moment 
he  had  gagged  him — in  another  he  was 
hurrying  him  rapidly,  in  spite  of  his  resist- 
ance from  the  spot  The  priest  attempted  to 
cry  out,  but  it  was  in  vain ;  and  casting  a 
lingering  look  towards  the  group  where  his 
friends  were  fighting  within  reach  of  him — 
yet  ignorant  of  his  danger — resigned  himself 
to  his  fate. 


':       i 


^ 


''.    ■* 


182 


FERE   JEAN. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

I 

THE  WBEATH  OF  WILD  FLOWERS.  ^ 

HASISTARI  and  his  foes  were 
struggling ;  the  combat  was  fierce ; 
but  one  by  one,  the  Mohawks 
were  overpowered  and  slain,  and 
the  Hurons  were  left  undisputed  masters  of 
the  village.  The  noise  of  battle  had  ceased ; 
only  the  moan  of  pain  broke  the  stillness  of 
the  scene.  Few  but  the  wounded  and  the 
dead  were  there  besides  themselves.  Their 
chief  looked  around  in  vain  for  the  Jesriit 
and  the  novice.  He  called  out  their  names ; 
they  did  not  answer.  They  searched  the 
village;  none  were  there  but  the  feeble,  and 
those  who  were  unable  to  fly.  They  turned 
in  sorrow  to  the  fires  of  torture.  Bound  to 
his  stake,  supported  almost  upright  by  his 
bands,  like  life  but  for  the  crushed  and 
bleeding  brow,  was  the  dead  body  of  the 
gentle  novice.  Softly  they  loosened  the 
cords;  softly  as  if,  even  in  death,  they  would 
not  rujffle  the  placid  slumber  of  those  pale 


\^^ 


PERE   JEAN. 


183 


and  delicate  features.  They  laid  him  dovii 
laon'the  turf,  and  sought  again  for  the 
Jesuit.  He  was  not  there.  Catching  up  a 
burning  brand,  Ahasistari  exximined  the 
edge  of  the  forest;  suddenly  he  uttered  a 
low  exclamation,  and  darted  into  its  depths. 
The  glare  of  the  torch,  as  its  flame  tossed 
wildly  in  his  swift  course  flitting  past  the 
dark  trunks  of  trees,  looked  like  a  red 
meteor  in  its  course. 

The  Hurons  silently  gathered  theii*  dead 
from  the  field,  and  laid  them  down  by  the 
body  of  the  young  novice.  Then  they  stood 
around  them  solemnly.  A  few  moments 
passed  thus  in  stern  meditation;  when, 
gliding  noiselessly  into  the  group,  and  press- 
ing aside  the  rest,  two  figures  approached 
close  beside  th^  body  of  the  novice.  A  low 
but  joyful  exeiamation  Avelcomed  them. 
Father  Laval  heeded  it  not.  The  steel  axe, 
which  Ahasistari  bore,  was  yet  dripping 
with  warm  blood;  it  told  the  Hurons  the 
story  of  the  rescue.  One  by  one  came  back 
the  scattered  warriors  from  the  pursuit,  and, 
last  of  all,  Le  Lcup  and  Daring  Scout. 
Father  Laval  k:  i*)t  beside  the  body  of  his 


^  /■ 


f   " 


w 


184 


PERE   JEAN. 


yOr.x.g  companion;  tears  dimriied  his  eyes, 
and  the  voice  of  prayer,  who:,  arose  from 
his  lips  for  the  departed  spirit,  came  broken 
with  sighs  and  indistinct  with  grief. 
Torches  of  blading  pine,  placed  by  the  silent 
Harons  at  the  head  and  feet  of  the  dead, 
were  sending  up  their  bright  flame,  capped 
with  dark  clouds  of  smoke — ^fit  emblem  of 
the  life  of  man.  Around  knelt  the  Chris- 
tian warriors,  mingling  their  prayers  with 
those  of  the  priest  of  God.  The  counte- 
nances of  the  Huron  Braves  were  stern  and 
solemn;  no  other  mark  of  grief  appeared 
upon  them.  Kneeling  at  the  feet  of  the 
fleparted  were  Le  Loup  and  Watook,  and  be- 
Isiid  them  the  stern  scout.  As  he  looked 
upon  the  pale  features  of  the  novice,  a  tear 
stole  silently  down  his  hard  and  weather- 
beaten  face,  and  clung  amid  the  scarred 
wrinkles  until  it  mingled  with  the  air,  and 
arose  to  heaven,  carrying  with  it  like  per- 
fume to  the  skies  the  unspoken  prayer  of 
the  melting  heart.  L'Espion  Hardi  was 
thinking  of  the  gallant  son  whom  he  had 
thus  buried  in  the  forest.  A  hand  touched 
him  lightly  upon  the  shoulder;    when  he 


\\ 


r£JK£  JEAN. 


185 


looked  up  Ahasistari  stood  beside  him,  and 
beckoned  him  to  follow  him.  After  they 
had  gone  somo  distance  from  the  spot,  the 


chief  paused,  an 
said: 

"UEspiou. 
face.    It  V 
of  his  deau. 
wrapt  in  sorro,, 


pointiug   to  the  group, 


i  is  of  the  race  of  the  pale 
ii.  :^  to  look  to  the  burial 
the  good  blackgown  is 
the  words  of  the  chief 
would  disturb  his  spirit.  The  braves  will 
bury  their  brothers ! " 

"  Huron,  I  am  but  a  rude  forester.  I  have 
lived  in  the  woods  till  I  am  like  the  Indian 
rather  than  my  own  blood  and  race" 

"  Good  I "  said  the  chief,  nodding  his  head 
approvingly;  "Daring  Scout  is  the  brother 
oftheHuronsl" 

"Chief,"  continued  Pierre,  "the  youth 
must  be  buried  like  a  Christian  white  man." 

"The  Hurons  are  Christians,"  said  the 
Indian  slowly. 

"  True,"  replied  thejscout;  "  your  brothers 
must  not  be  turned  into  the  earth  like  the 
heathen  Mohawk ! '  The  Indian  assented, 
and  the  scout  continued:  "We  must  bury 
them  side  by  side  with  the  youth ! " 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Sciences 

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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER, NY.  MS80 

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■ysQ 


FSSS  JEAK. 


"Huron  and  pale  face — all  the  same  in 
the  ground — ^all  the  ^me  before  GodI "  said 
the  chief  earnestty. 

"Kot  the  same  here  on  the  earth  though  I " 
said  the  scout,  clinging  to  the  idea  of  the 
superiority  of  his  race. 

"No?  Indian  tell  truth!  Indian  don't 
steal ;  he  loyes  G-od  and  prays  to  Him ;  what 
more  pale  face?" 

For  a  moment  the  scout  was  silent ;  at 
length  he  said :  "  True,  Huron,  but  the  pale 
face  is  richer  and  stronger;  he  builds 
splendid  cities,  makes  fine  houses,  wears  rich 
clothes,  drinks  costly  wines."  The  scout 
ceased  as  he  caught  the  meaning  glance  of 
the  Huron*s  eye.  But  that  look  passed 
away  in  a  moment,  and  Ahasistari  said 
solemnly : 

«  What  good  all  that— there  and  tJiere  ?  " 
as  he  pointed  to  the  earth,  and  itien  to  the 
sky.  The  scout  was  silent,  and  the  chief, 
turning  away,  said :  "  Let  us  go ! " 

"Yes,  it  is  time  to  dig  their  graves ; "  and 
the  two  entered  the  forest 
'    "It  shall  be,"  said  Ahasistari,  "where  the 
foot  of  the  Mohawk  shall  not  tread  upon 
them." 


PEBB  JEAN. 


187 


and 


SelectiDg  a  suitable  spot,  tho  Huron  and 
the  Frenchman  turned  up  the  sod  with 
their  hatchets,  and,  in  a  short  time,  had 
scooped  a  resting  place  for  the  dead.  Then 
they  retraced  their  steps  to  the  Tillage,  and 
joined  the  group.  Rude  biers  were  made  of 
the  branches  of  trees'  strewed  with  the 
softest  foliage,  that  the  lifeless  corpse  might 
repose  gently  there.  In  one  of  the  lodges 
had  been  found  the  sacks  in  which,  slung 
upon  their  shoulders,  the  missionaries  carried 
their  vestments  and  the  sacred  vessels  in 
their  journey  through  the  boundless  forests. 

In  his  white  surplice  they  robed  the  gentle 
novice;  in  that  pure  garment  in  which  he 
had  so  often  served  at  the  holy  sacrifice  they 
wrapped  him  for  the  solemn  burial.  His 
hands  were  meekly  crossed  upon  his  breast 
They  raised  him  sadly,  and  laid  him  on  his 
bier;  they  lifted  it  and  strode  forward; 

At  that  instant  a  slight  female  figure 
pierced  through  the  group,  and  gazed  for  a 
moment  on  the  face  of  the  dead.  Then  she 
placed  a  wreath  of  wild  flowers  upon  his 
brow,  and,  starting  away,  the  wail  of  the  In- 
dian girl  arose  for  the  departed. 


til 


188 


FERE  JEAN. 


Bearing  torches  in  their  hands,  the  pro- 
cession wound  solemnly  into  the  forest,  and 
paused  beside  tjie  new  made  graye.  Slowly 
and  carefully  they  laid  him  in  the  silent 
resting  place,  while  the  light  of  the  torches 
beamed  upon  his  angelic  face,  and,  reflected 
from  the  glowing  colors  of  the  wild  flowers 
on  his  brow,  his  cheek  seemed  to  bloom 
with  a  tinge  of  life.  He  had  passed  into 
death  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  prayer;  its 
heavenly  radiance  still  hovered  around  the 
chiselled  features.  Beautiful  in  death, 
crowned  with  the  wreath  of  flowers,  and 
robed  in  unspotted  white,  the  young  martyr 
lay,  a  halo  of  unearthly  glory  seeming  to  the 
wrapt  beholders  already  to  glow  around  his 
brow.  By  the  side  of  the  gentle  novice  they 
stretched  the  scarred  forms  of  the  two 
Huron  warriors.  In  silence  their  brothers 
laid  them  down  to  mingle  their  dust  with 
one  of  another  race,  yet  one  in  faith,  and 
hope,  and  charity;  one  by  the  bond  of  that 
Church  which  gathers  alike  all  souls  within 
her  fold. 

i"De  profundis  clamavi  ad  te,  Domine!" 
arose  in  the  deep  voice  of  the  priest,  and 
the  Hurons  responded.  :  . 


:}■. 


1  :'  vf  :.■■■ 


:.  ,.\: 


s-. 


y 


FERE  JEAN. 


189 


% 

Xh': 


•  ft  • 


n- 


0 1  how  solemn  was  the  burial  ceremony 
there,  in  the  hour  of  midnight,  by  the 
wild  gleam  of  torches,  under  the  forest  trees, 
with  the  dusky  forms  of  the  Hurons  grouped 
around  the  grave. 

It  was  done.  Upon  the  cold  bosom  of  the 
dead  fell  the  clodded  earth,  which  was  to  be 
the  dwelling  place  and  home  of  the  body 
until  its  mouldering  dust  should  mingle 
with  it  Carefully  they  replaced  each  sod, 
and,  above  the  whole,  strewed  the  fallen 
leaves  again  so  skillfully  that  it  might  never 
more  be  found  save  by  those  who  now  looked 
upon  it.  As  they  finished,  a  figure  flitted 
from  the  spot;  the  Indian  maiden  had  been 
gazing  on  the  scene.  In  silence  they 
wended  their  way  back  to  the  village,  Aha- 
sistari  and  Le  Loup  in  the  rear,  covering 
every  footstep,  and  removing  every  trace  of 
their  passage.  When  they  had  reached  the 
centre  of  the  village,  the  chief  addressed  the 
priest: 

"  Father,  there  is  little  time  to  spare ;  the 
routed  Mohawks  may  reach  the  nearest  vil- 
lages of  their  tribe  by  daybreak,  and  we 
have  many  days'  march  before  us  I " 


190 


^-^:.'v 


FEBE  JEAN. 


"I  am  ready,  my  son,"  said  the  Jesuit 
sadly,  for  the  death  of  his  young  companion 
weighed  heaWly  upon  him.  As  he  spoke. 
Morning  Flower  stood  before  him,  and,  in  a 
low  tojQe,  mentioned  the  name  of  Kiskepila, 
and  pointed  to  his  lodge.  The  Jesuit  fol- 
lowed her  thither,  while  the  Hurons  made 
their  preparations  for  departure,  gathering 
all  the  arms  at  the  village,  and  destroying 
theip,  and  loading  themselves  with  a  supply 
of  corn  for  the  march.  Father  Lav^l  found 
the  young  Indian  stretched  Hpon  his  couch, 
his  face  covered  with  his  hands. 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  "  be  not  cast  down ! " 
The  Indian  looked  up  proudly;  but  the  glow 
of  spirit  passed  in  a  moment  from  his  cheek, 
and  he  said : 

"The  home  of  Kiskepila  is  destroyed;  his 
people  are  slain,  and  he  must  lie  upon  his 
bed  helpless  as  a  woman !  Bid  the  Hurons 
come;  Kiskepila  would  die!" 

At  this  moment  Ahasistari  entered,  and 
stood  behind  the  Jesuit;  all  was  ready  for 
departure,  and  time  was  pressing;  but  he 
waited  patiently  till  Father  Laval  should 
conclude  his  conversation.    As  soon  as  the 


\ 


,-^  J  ■   '   • .  V 


PERE  JEAN. 


191 


U- 


lud 
for 
he 
Id 
he 


1 


Mohawk  saw  him,  he  raised  himself,  and, 
with  a  look  of  proud  defiance,  said : 

"Kiskepila  is  the  young  eagle  of  his 
tribe  I  the  triumph  of  the  Huron  is  but  little 
without  his  scalp." 

Ahasistari  did  not  move ;  but  the  Jesuit 
replied:  "My  son,  do  not  entertain  such 
thoughts;  the  Huron  does  not  desire  to  shed 
your  blood. '  It  is  our  sincerest  wish  to  be 
your  friends,  and  the  friends  of  all  men 
rather  than  their  foes."  The  Huron  chief 
assented. 

After  a  pause,  the  Mohawk  continued: 
*'  My  people  are  routed ;  but  they  fled,  not 
from  the  living,  but  from  the  dead  ?  The 
blackgown  called  the  great  white  warrior 
from  the  spirit  land  to  rescue  him." 

Father  Laval  listened  in  wonder,  and  re- 
plied :  "  My  son,  this  is  some  wild  mistake." 

'* Ohamplain I "  said  the  other;  Kiskepila 
heard  the  cry,  and  saw  the  warriors  of  his 
tribe  turn  like  women  from  the  face  of  the 
white  man.    Who  could  fight  the  dead  ?  " 

In  a  moment,  the  whole  matter  became 
apparent  to  the  mind  of  the  Jesuit.  The 
division  of  opinion  in  the  village,  in  regard 


:t 


■■■J--. 


192 


FERE  JEAN. 


to  the  policy  of  condemning  so  great  a 
medicine  as  they  considered  Father  Laval, 
had  made  the  taunt  of  Eiohba  remembered; 
and,  when  they  heard  the  cry  "  Ohamplain ! " 
and  saw  the  assault  led  on  by  a  white  man, 
they  believed  that  the  challenge  of  Kiohba 
had  been  accepted,  and  that  the  great 
Frenchman  had  arisen  from  the  tomb  to  the 
rescue.  Whilst  the  priest  was  endeavoring 
to  explain  this  to  the  Mohawk,  Ahasistari 
left  the  lodge,  and  in  a  few  moments  re- 
turned with  Pierre. 

"L'Espion  Hardi,''  he  said.  The  Mo- 
hawk looked  upon  the  scout  for  a  moment; 
then  hiding  his  head  in  his  hands,  remained 
in  imperturbable  silence. 

"Yes!  L'Espion  Hardi,"  said  the  scout, 
"that's  the  name  the  Huron's  call  me,  anu, 
if  I  had  not  been  delayed  in  the  swamp 
ground  in  getting  to  my  station  according 
to  the  plan  of  the  chief;  or,  if  he  had  held 
his  fire  a  little  longer  until  I  gave  the  sig- 
nal, not  a  Mohawk  would  have  escaped." 

«It  is  well,"  said  the  chief.  "But 
L'Espion  Hardi  was  delayed  in  the  forest 
too." 


PEBB  JEAN. 


193 


'-'\" 


'*■  ■-■'. 


i'  I-- 


IP- 


"Ah,  your  Huron  nearly  missed  the  trail, 
but  we  came  in  time.'* 

*'  Yes.  Ahasistari  was  about  to  fulfil  his 
oath,  and  go  to  die  with  his  father  at  the 
torture  fire,  wiien  the  sounds  of  the  comiug 
braves  struck  upon  his  ear." 

Father  Laval  addressed  a  few  kind  words 
to  the  Mohawk,  and  left  the  lodge.  The 
Ilurons  bound  all  those  who  were  left  at  the 
village ;  and,  having  heaped  a  mass  of  fuel 
upon  the  fires  to  impress  any  returning 
stragglers  with  the  idea  that  a  strong  force 
was  still  there,  leaving  a  broad  trail  to  the 
edge  of  the  forest  on  the  south,  then  doubling 
and  striking  into  its  depth  towards  the 
northeast,  hastened  rapidly  on  their  return. 

The  time  which  must  elapse  before  any 
pursuit  could  begin  would  enable  them  to 
escape,  provided  Father  Laval  held  out. 
The  party  under  Watook  had,  in  order  to  be 
sure  of  the  route  of  the  Mohawks,  proceeded 
to  the  scene  of  the  first  encounter,  and  had 
there  found  the  canoes  which  had  been  con- 
cealed in  readiness  for  another  foray.  With 
fortunate  precaution  Watook,  after  observing 
the  direction  of  the  trail,  had  sent  these 


4  b 


194 


PERE  JEAN. 


barka  up  a  stream  which  flowed  into  the  St 
Lawrence  from  the  Mohawk  country. 
Several  days*  rapid  journeying,  in  which 
they  sought  little  sleep  or  rest,  brought 
them  to  the  spot  where  the  boats  were  con- 
cealed. Here  they  embarked,  and,  descend- 
ing quickly  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  turned 
their  course  once  more  with  saddened  and 
chastened  hearts  towards  the  Huron  mis- 
sions. 


(I 


Hm^Mii 


§iM-%'^^ 


[  >  ■ 


I 


■v 


VERE  J£AN. 


195 


■■■- 


":■/-■  l■ 


:g■ 


-8- 

f   ..  .;      • 


'^1 


i- 


■I.. 


it 


j.'.i? 


^tl't    ' 


CHAPTER  Xir. 

THE     CONCLUSION'. 

EARS  passed.  Twice  had  the 
snows  of  winter  fallen ;  twice  the 
blossoms  of  spring  had  bloomed: 
summer  was  upon  the  land; 
and  the  fields  and  waters  laughed  in  glad 
sunshine. 

I  It  was  at  the  close  of  day  that  a  group  of 
idlers,  resting  upon  the  quay   at    Quebec,, 
gazed  out  listlessly  upon  the  waters,  ob- 
serving the  motions  of  the  boats  passing  to 
and  from  the  few  vessels  lying  in  the  river. ' 
Occasionally  a  canoe,  paddled  by  Indians, 
would  shoot  out  from  the  shore,  and  pass 
gracefully  along  the  waters,  as  its  occupants 
bent  their  course  towards  their  settlements ;  ^ 
for  the  Christian  Indians  had  formed  them- 
selves into  communities,  and  lived  around 
their  churches  and  their  priests — the  flock 
around  the  shepherd — within  the  borders  of  | 
the  province. 


19G 


FESE  JEAN. 


**ThQ  Indians  are  retnruiDg  to  their 
homes/'  said  one  of  the  group.  **  I  thought 
they  would  have  remained  in  town  to-night; 
to-morrow  is  the  festiral  of  the  Assumption." 

"True,"  said  another;  "but  they  are  re- 
turning to  celebrate  it  at  their  own  vil- 
lages." 

"They  arc  very  pious  and  devout,"  con- 
tinued the  first  "  Their  example  is  enough 
to  shame  the  better  instructed  white,** 

** Better  instructed!"  said  the  second 
speaker  with  a  laugh;  "but  that  depends 
upon  the  sense  in  which  you  use  the  phrase. 
They  are  unsophisticated,  it  is  true;  and 
their  pastors,  the  Jesuits,  have  succeeded  in 
preserving  them  from  the  contamination 
which  £0  often  follows  in  the  path  of  the 
white  man  in  his  contact  with  the  Indians. 
They  are  untaught  in  the  world's  learning, 
perhaps,  and  undervalue  it;  but  I  warrant 
thee,  neighbor,  they  will  repeat  the  Pater 
and  the  Ave,  and  the  creed,  and  the  deca- 
logue, with  thee,  and  explain  them  too,  as 
well  as  thou  canst;  and  what  is  better  still, 
neighbor,  they  practice  what  they  have 
learned ;  a  thing  which  you  and  I,  and  many 


iJ 


1 


PEBS  J8AH. 


197 


more  of  the  *  better  instmctecl/  sometimes  do 
not  consider  as  necessary  as  we  ought" 

"Yes,  I  admit  they  are  good  and  practical 
Ohristians — thanks  to  the  zeal  and  energy 
and  pnrity  of  life  of  their  pastors." 

'*Is  it  not  admirable,  this  courage  and 
daring  of  the  Jesuits,  that  led  them  into  the 
forest  to  bring  these  wanderers  to  God  ?  " 

"They  tell  me,"  said  another,  "that  in 
France  there  are  some  who  begin  to  rail 
against  the  order  as  proud,  intriguing— as 
seeking  after  wealth  and  power." 

"Oh  doubtless  I  Yes,  I  have  heard  so, 
neighbor.  They  seek  wealth  in  strange 
places;  here  in  the  forest,  in  China,  in  Eng- 
land on  the  scaflTold.  Yes,  it  is  the  wealth 
of  heaven  they  are  seeking !  Ah,  it  would 
be  a  glorious  thing  to  place  one  of  +^ese 
silken-robed  levilers  by  the  side  of  an 
humble  Jesuit  in  the  forest,  beyond  the 
great  lakes,  among  the  wild  Indians,  who 
^ad  never  yet  seen  the  face  of  a  white  man. 
Give  them  both  staff  and  scrip,  and  a  wooden 
cross '' 

"Aye,  or  bind  them  both  to  the  stake 
with  the  savage  Iroquois  around  them,  tear- 


193 


PEBB  JBAN. 


ing  their  flesh  and  torturing  them  to  death, 
as  I  haye  seen  the  Jesuit  die,  with  a  prayer 
upon  hia  lips " — said  a  voice  abruptly,  and 
the  speaker  rose  from  a  seat  which  he  had 
occupied  near  the  party,  but  concealed  from 
them  by  some  bales  of  goods,  and  turned  liis 
steps  towards  the  town.  A  pause  for  a  mo- 
ment ensued. 

"  Who  is  that  man  ?  "  asjied  one  of  the 
group. 

**Ah,  that  is  UEspion  Hardi!"  said  the 
defender  of  the  Jesuits,  whose  name  was 
Paul.  "I  have  heard  it  said  that  he  was 
out  some  years  ago  with  a  p'y:ty  of  Hurons, 
who  endeavored  to  rescue  two  missionaries 
from  the  Mohawks.  It  is  a  sad  tale ;  but  it 
so  often  happens  thus  in  this  wild  land,  that 
one  can  scarcely  recall  all  the  facts  to  mind. 
Yes,  one  they  saved,  Father  Jean  Laval ;  the 
other,  a  novice,  was  already  dead  at  the  tor- 
ture fire  when  they  became  master  of  the 
village.  The  Daring  Scout  is  right;  bind 
the  Jesuit  and  his  reviler  to  the  stake,  and 
S3e  who  will  die  v/ith  the  sweetest  conscience 
and  the  most  placid  smile— see  whose  soul 
will  best  befit  a  martyr.    Ah  I  it  is  the  hour 


> 

FEBS  JEAN.                          199 

of  death  which  proves  the  value  of  the  past 

life— which  tries  its  motives,  and  explains 

and  illustrates  them.    That    is  the   honr 

when  cunning  is  of  no  avail ;  when  wrong 

will  weigh  upon  the  conscience,  and  wring 

out  the  cry  of  horror  from  the  soul.    The 

death  of  one  Jesuit  is  worth  the  whole  lives 

of  a  thousand  of  their  revilers.    The  dyirj^^ 

of  the  one,  and  the  living  of  the  other,  dike, 

are  irresistible  arguments  in  behalf  of  the 

,  assailed  and  the  reviled.* 

"The  blood-prints  of  their  martyrs  have 

already  rendered  holy  the  borders  of  new 

France,  and  sanctified  and  dedicated  to  God 

the  great  valley  beyond  the  western  lakes. 

They  have  bought  it  with  their  toils  and 

sufferings  I" 

*  Compare  the  dying  scene  of  the  Jesuit  martyr  in 

China,  in  Japan,  amongst  the  Mohawks,  or  with  Abenakis 

-even  upon  the  scaffold  in  the  realm  of  Britaln-rsaffor- 

ing  in  the  dissemination  of  religion,  in  the  teaching  of 

morality,  with  the  life  of  an  enemy  of  theirs,  such  as 

Sue,  spent  in  sowing  broadcast  the  seed  of  immorality 

and  licentiousness,  in  spreading  infidelity,  in  assailing 

Christianity,  and  battening  upon  sin  and  sorrow.   Ah,  It 

is  glorious  to  hnve  such  enemies ;  they  are  their  own  refu- 

tation, their  own  condemnation,  with  all  rational  Chris- 

tians. 

200 


PEKE  JEAN. 


"And  this  VEspion  Ilardi — I  havo  never 
seen  him  before — does  he  come  often  to 
Quebec  ?*• 

**It  is  very  plain  that  you  are  not  long  of 
new  France.  Of  late  he  comes  frequently 
for  ammunition,  as  he  says:  but  he  always 
calls  at  the  house  of  the  Jesuits :  for  during 
that  event  he  formed  a  reverential  affection 
towards  the  patient  and  enduring  priest, 
which  the  ru'de  hunter  cannot  conquer." 

"Then  Father  Laval  is  still  here?" 

"  Yes,"  said  M.  Paul ;  "  he  returned  from 
the  Huron  missions  some  months  since,  and 
is  recruiting  his  health,  which  was  much 
shattered  by  the  incessant  toils, and  labors  of 
a  two  years'  mission  among  the  wandering 
tribes,  added  to  tho  effects  of  the  sufferings 
he  endured  while  in  captivity  among  the 
Mohawks.  But  seel  yonder  come  two 
canoes  down  the  river  towards  the  oity ;  all 
that  we  have  hitherto  observed  wese  leaving 
it" 

The  rest  of  the  group  directed  their  eyes 
up  the  river  upon  the  objects  indicated. 
Sweeping  majestically  around  that  point 
from  which  Father  Laval  had  bid  adieu  to 


1  ,^  • .(    * '  •-' 


^^./V"'^:- 


J 


FEBB  JEAN. 


201 


Qaebeo  two  years  before,  came  two  canoes, 
each  nrged  by  several  rowers.  Aided  by  the 
current  they  rapidly  neared  the  town,  until 
it  was  possible  to  distinguish  the  faces  of  the 
occupants.  In  the  first  canoe  stood  a  young 
Indian  of  powerful  frame.  His  head  was 
ornamented  with  eagle  feathers;  his  dress 
was  a  rich  robe  of  skins,  bound  round  his 
waist  with  a  finely  worked  belt;  his  face  was 
free  from  painty  and  he  was  totally  unarmed. 
Behind  him  rowed  another  Indian,  the 
cross  around  whose  neck  proclaimed  him  to 
be  a  Christian.  The  second  canoe  contained 
a  single  male  and  two  females ;  one  youthful 
and  beautiful,  in  whom  the  freshness  of  girl- 
hood had  ripened  into  fuller  bloom.  The 
other  was  older,  and  the  hand  of  time  had 
already  scattered  a  few  white  hairs  among 
her  thick  locks.  At  the  bow  of  each  canoe 
was  fastened  a  green  branch,  the  Indian 
symbol  of  peace  and  amity.  The  you~  \^ 
warrior  paused  for  a  moment  to  gaze  upou 
the  growing  city,  and  then  bending  again  to 
his  paddle,  sent  thQ  light  bark  on  more 
fleetly.  The  evening  sun  was  still  casting 
his  glory  upon  the  waters,  when  the  bow  of 


202 


PKBE  JEAN. 


the  first  canoo  grated  on  the  sand  of  the 
quay  below  the  lookers-on.  The  Indian 
Avarrior  leaped  ashore,  and  his  companion 
drew  the  light  bark  upon  the  beach.  In 
another  moment  the  whole  party  stood' 
together.  Then  the  Christian  Indian 
taking  the  lead,  at  a  quick  pace  turned  to- 
wards the  town.  It  was  too  common  a  sight 
in.  Quebec  to  attract  any  extraordinary 
attention,  and  the  party  passed  on  unheeded. 
The  young  brave  of  the  eagle  feathers  trod 
on  in  silence,  scarce  deigning  to  notice  what 
to  him  must  have  been  wondrous  wealth 
and  opulence,  but  regardless  of  all  around 
he  followed  in  the  lead  of  his  guide.  At 
length  the  Christian  Indian,  a  Huron, 
paused  before  a  house  of  some  size,  and  after 
looking  about,  as  if  to  recognize  the  land- 
marks of  the  place,  advanced  to  the  door 
and  knocked.  In  a  few  moments  it  was 
opened. 

"A  Huron  captive  from  the  Mohawks,"  he 
said  to  the  janitor,  **  would  see  his  father  of 
the  blackgown,"  The  door  was  cast  open, 
and  they  entered.  After  a  little  delay  the 
superior  came  to  them. 


y 


FERE  JEAN. 


203 


"  My  son,  what  is  that  you  wish  ?  "  he  said 
to  the  Huron. 

"My  father,"  he  replied,,  pointing  to  the 
young  brave,  "a  Mohawk  neophyte." 
•  Long  did  the  good  old  Jesuit  gaze  upon 
the  powerful  young  Mohawk,  one  of  that 
terrible  race  of  Iroquois  who  had  hitherto 
resisted  the  eiforts  of  the  missionary,  and 
now  heaven  had  sent  one  to  his  door 
demanding  admission  to  the  Church. 

**  Yes;  there  is  but  one,"  he  said,  speaking 
half  aloud,  "who  can  speak  the  Mohawk 
and  Huron  tongue;  and  though  in  ill  health, 
he  is  full  of  zeal.  Stay,"  he  continued 
aloud,  "my  children.  I  will  send  one  to 
you  who  can  speak  your  own  language," 
and  left  the  room. 

The  Mohawk  remained  cold  and  imper- 
turbable, evincing  no  curiosity  as  to  what 
had  been  said,  or  anxiety  for  the  result, 
though  he  had  closely  watched  the  face  of 
the  speaker.  The  females  of  the  party  were 
not  as  impassive,  but  examined  with  wonder 
the  simple  decorations  of  the  reception-room, 
looking  with  astonishment  upon  the  few 
plain  pictures  which  adorned  the  walls.    At 


204 


FERE  JEAN. 


length  a  step  was  heard  without;  and, 
through  the  opened  door,  entered  a  Jesuit. 
His  face  was  averted  as  he  came  in,  but 
when  he  had  closed  the  door  he  advanced  to- 
wards them.  It  was  Father  Laval.  His 
countenance  was  very  pale  and  attenuated, 
and  his  hair  was  gray:  for  the  toils  of  a  few 
such  years  as  his  had  been  will  touch  with 
white  as  surely  as  the  placid  flow  of  many. 
Suddenly  the  impassive  face  of  the  Mohawk 
warrior  lit  up  with  a  bright  smile;  a  low 
exclamation  of  surprise  broke  from  his  lips, 
and  he  stepped  forward  to  a  spot  where, 
from  a  window,  the  light  fell  full  upon  his 
manly  form,  and  said :  "  Blackgown  I — Kis- 
kepila! — Morning  Flower  I " 

The  Jesuit  clasped  his  hands,  and  looked 
towards  heaven,  for  the  memory  of  sad 
scenes  came  over  his  soul ;  but  in  a  moment 
the  cloud  passed,  and  joyously  he  stretched 
out  his  hands : 

"Welcome,  Young  Eagle!  Welcome, 
gentle  maiden.  Sad  were  the  scenes  in 
which  we  parted ;  joyful  is  this  hour  in 
which  you  come  back  to  me,  like  the  fruit  of 
my  captivity." 


H^ 


PSBB  JEAN/ 


205 


■-■  t,/ . 


""  The  Indian  maiden  wept  as  she  took  the 
hand  of  the  priesl^  and  she  said :  "  In  spring 
time  and  in  summer,  Morning  Flower  has 
strewed  fresh  flowers  oyer  the  grave  of  the 
young  pale  face;  and  she  has  prayed  there 
that  the  God  of  the  pale  face  would  hear 
her.  She  has  said,  often — often:  "Mary! 
Mary  I" 

"And  heaven  has  heard  your  prayer!*'  ex-v 
claimed  the  priest  ' 

''  Kiskepila  has  thought  many  times  upon 
the  words  of  the  hlackgown,"  said  the  young 
Mohawk;  and  pointing  to  the  Huron  cap- 
tive, he  continued:  "Kiskepila  took  the 
Huron  captive;  and  he  told  him  over  and 
over  the  teaching  of  the  good  father,  that  he 
might  not  forget  it  The  Mohawks  are  at 
war  with  the  French;  hut  the  Mohawk 
hrave  has  come  hither  to  he  baptized. 
Kiodego  has  gone  to  the  spirit  land,  and 
Kiskepila  is  a  chief  in  his  village.  Morning 
Flower  ofben  talked  of  the  teaching  of  the 
hlackgown,  and  would  seek  the  father  of  the 
pale  face.  She  has  come  with  the  mother  of 
Kiskepila." 
i  Father   Laval    learned    that  the  Indian 


206 


FERE  JEAN. 


maiden,  cherishing  bis  instrnctions  in  her 
memory,  and  gaining  forther  knowledge 
from  the  Huron  captiye,  had  Hefnsed  to 
become  the  wife  of  the  chie(  iexoept  through 
the  Christian  sacrament  ^-ahd  to  be  received 
into  the  Church  the  party  had  undertaken 
the  long  journey  to  Quebec  Eiskepila  in- 
formed the  priest  that,  after  the  surprise  at 
the  village  and  the  departure  of  the  vifttors, 
the  Mohawks  had  not  reassembled  until  late 
the  next  day ;  that  then  a  strong  party,  with 
reinforcements  from  the  other  villages,  had 
set  out  in  pursuit,  but  that  after  an  inef- 
fectual chase  had  returned,  having  lost  the 
trail  upon  the  banks  of  a  stream  of  water 
that  flowed  into  the  St.  Lawrence;  that  he 
had  explained  away  to  them  the  cause  of 
their  panic,  and  had  ever  after  maintained 
an  ascendenjcy  among  them,  and  led  tliem  on 
as  their  favorite  war  chief. 

Father  Laval  then  began  to  question  the 
two  neophytes  uponl^he  subject  of  religion. 
He  found  their  dispositions  good,  and  their 
instruction,  so  &r  as  it  had  gone,  solid  and 
well  understood.  And  after  consulting  with 
his  superior,  determined  that  they  should  be 


FERE  JEAN. 


207 


baptized  on  the  morrow,  as  a^i  offering  to 
Godf  through  the  Virgin,  on  the  feast  of  the 
Assumption,  and  as  a  dedication  of  the 
nation  of  the  Iroquois  to  Christ  under  her 
invocation.  Accordingly  he  placed  the  two 
females  under  the  protection  of  the  nuns  of 
the  IJrsnline  Gonyent^  with  directions  that 
the  maiden  should  be  further  instructed  and 
prepared,  by  means  of  an  interpreter,  for  the 
reception  of  baptism  and  the  sacrament  of 
penance.  In  their  own  houEe  Kiskepila  and 
his  two  companions  were  sheltered— Father 
Laval  that  same  evening  attending  the 
neoessary  preparations  on  the  part  of  the 
young  chief. 

With  the  dawn  of  morning  rang  out  ^e 
joyous  peals  of  the  church  bells  for  the  festi- 
val of  the  Assumption.  The  city  was 
thronged;  many  of  the  colonists  from  the 
country  had  assembled  to  celebrate  the  festi- 
val in  the  capital.  Crowds  of  strangers  and 
Indians  filled  the  streets.  The  military,  in 
all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war,  were 
drawn  out  in  long  array,  preparatory  to 
marching  to  the  cathedral  to  assist  at  the 
holy  sacrifice.    At  length  the  pealing  bells 


il^  l^»l'  Pll  ■■  t  I 


208 


FEBE  JEAN. 


again  rang  oat»  the  solemn  ohant  arose  in 
the  holy  temple,  the  deep-toned  organ 
swelled  up  its  lengthened  aisles.  All 
Qaebeo  had  gathered  there,  for  the  rnmor 
had  gone  forth  that  an  interesting  ceremony 
was  to  he  performed  at  the  conclnsion  of  the 
Bishop's  Solemn  Mass.  The  hoar  came. 
Kneeling  at  the  baptistery,  before  the  sacred 
font,  were  two  figures,  an  Indian  warrior 
and  a  female.  Over  the  head  of  the  latter 
was  thrown  a  light  veil  of  muslin,  through 
which  her  jet  black  hair  showed  its  glossy 
hue.  She  was  clothed  in  a  neat  dress  of 
spotless  white.  Beyond  them  knelt  a  crowd 
of  mingled  colonists  and  natives.  Beside 
the  sacred  font  stood  up  the  Jesuit,  Father 
Laval  enrobed,  and  holding  his  missal  in  his 
handSi  On  either  side  were  acolytes,  with 
lighted  tapers  in  their  hands.  The  cere- 
mony proceeded;  it  was  finished;  and  with 
extended  hands  the  priest  bestowed  upon 
them  his  blessing.  The  neophytes  arose. 
In  solemn  procession  they  moved  towards 
the  altar.  The  priest  entered  within  the 
sanctuary,  and  they  stood  before  him.  He 
joined  their  hands;  he  placed  the  sacred 


\, 


FSSB  JBAN. 


209 


ring  upon  the  finger  of  the  maiden;  he 
uttered  the  final  blessiog  of  the  chnrch  upon 
those  vho  worthily  enter  into  the  holy  bonds 
of  matrimony^  and  the  affecting  scene  was 
ended.  Tears  gathered  in  the  e^  of  Father 
Laval  as  he  uttered  the  lost  prayer.  Two 
years  ago  that  Tery  day,  upon  the  feast  of 
the  Assumption,  he  hod  run  the  gauntlet  in 
the  Tillages  of  the  Mohawk.  These  two 
young  souls  were  now  before  him,  the  first 
fruits  of  his  toils  and  sufferings,  through  the 
merits  of  Christ,  and  he  returned  thanks  to 
Gk>d  for  His  goodness  in  sending  him  so 
abundant  consolation.  At  this  moment  a 
Huron  passed  through  the  kneeling  crowd, 
advanced  towards  the  Mohawk,  and  stretch- 
ing out  his  hands,  exclaimed: 

''Eiskepilal  there  has  been  war  between 
thy  people  and  my  people.  Let  the  hatchet 
be  buried.  Let  the  tree  of  peace  spring  up, 
and  the  Blohawk  and  the  Huron  will  rest 
together,  like  brothers,  under  its  shade.  It 
is  the  spirit  of  the  religion  which  thou  hast 
embraced." 

r**The  words  of  the  chief  of  the  Hnrons 
ore  good!    Eiskepila  loveth  peace  1    He  has 


tm^ 


210 


PBttE  JEAN. 


\ 


come  nnarmcd  into  the  fortress  oF  hU 
brothen.  The  blackgown  has  laaght  Kit- 
kepiU  that  thej  ore  the  lovers  of  peace,  the 
merciful,  and  the  forgiving,  who  are  to  be 
happjl"  f!n(^  the  yonng  Mohawk  grasped 
the  hai.I  i\i  A  '^asistarl 

''T  .6  lion  and  the  lamb  shall  lie  down  to- 
gether— .'.  is  trne;  the  Mohawk  and  the 
iiuron  are  friends,'*  said  a  voice,  and  the 
figure  oi  L'Espion  Hardi  was  seen  passing 
down  the  aisle  of  the  cathedral  with  a  sad 
and  pensive  step. 

Together  the  two  chiefs  knelt  More  the 
altar,  and  with  uplifted  hands  the  priest  be- 
sought blessings  from  heaven  on  the  nnion, 
and  peace  thus  made  and  cemented  by  the 
solemnities  of  his  holy  church, 

*'0  God  I  I  thank  thee  for  thy  ineffable 
goodness  to  thy  unworthy  servant!"  ex- 
claimed the  Jesnit  as  he  departed  from  the 
church  with  a  happy  heart  ''Thou  didst 
turn  my  steps  from  the  beaten  path  to  those 
wliobnV  already  heard  thy  Gospel,  to  tread 
iU  sorrow  and  captivity  the  way  to  the 
darkened  heathen;  and  thou  didst  there 
make  me  plant  in  sadness  and  suffering  the 


W'' 


FEBE  JEAN. 


811 


hU 

the 
)  be 
sped 

ato- 

tho 

.  the 

ising 

i  sad 

I  the 
tbe- 
aion, 
r  the 


seed  which  has  this  day,  through  thy  grace, 
borne  fruit  in  peace  and  joy.  Thou  gnidest 
our  steps  and  directest  our  energies.  Truly 
out  of  evil  thou  dost  bring  forth  good." 

In  ;^at  year  a  solemn  treaty  of  peace  was 
formed  t ween  tlie  French  and  the  Iroquois, 
and  a  mi  4on  was  bounded  in  the  Mohawk 
valley  A:id  althc  agh  interrupted  by  out- 
'  reak  of  the  sayages,  and  interrupted  by 
wars,  ii  com  antly  revived,  until  at  a  period 
of  ten  y(  ra  later,  "there,  in  the  heart  of 
New  li  K,  the  solemn  services  of  the 
Roman  cholio  Church  were  chanted  as 
securely  a   in  any  part  of  Christendom."* 


*  B«oorort  liU  pago  IISL 


fable 
ex- 
athe 
didst 
those 
tread 
the 
there 
the 


THE  ENDW 


V, 


>.., 


Ak 


,rii:?£**" 


■;o.-'**,|inr!V    fftrr^V-'^ 


\  :  ^iii-^/M-  -0^'i^^-  :mMdiM-  '^fM -^;«j^fe&^'''  W"^^ . , 


Ps-:^.-^i-.'-.#l' 


•*.».-»V#<ii*',  ■•-♦  • 


Sli, 


■•■  (^1  H«>.^'i  ^;J'3i'^f-''|!  '',"■  \  ■■  ■' 


-;'ij. 


\ 


..•  w 


'-^7f  ly^'j" 


mi.  ' 


iS  Is  '• 


r» 


»•  M, 


Th  ■ 


m. 


:im-:^ 


fcfWt*!^^'. ,..»--, 


<•  i, 


tf- 


u 


